^{[Aelious + Esmeralda, with a touch of Verity and Jonathan]}

Golovan was a great man. A masterful man. House Aureolin owed the Star Sage for the knowledge that he disseminated, the star maps that guided ships and wyverns through long, moonless nights. But Golovan was also a long dead man, and Aelious didn’t feel particularly bad as Freecloud perched upon the Observatory, the gleaming wyvern applying just enough pressure to keep ahold of his position, without damaging the stonework beneath. Smart boy, really. Though he didn’t have anything like a massive, overpowered telescope, the Heir of House Aureolin could see the rest of Harrow’s Keep just fine from his vantage point, and he could do it without awkwardly squinting one eye while mashing it against a metal scope.

It had been a good morning for flying, and now, with some nice exercise done on both their parts, it was high time for some lunch. Unwrapping some aged beef, Aelious sliced chunks of it off with his dagger, before absentmindedly tossing the bloodied chunks into the air for Freecloud to snatch up. While his steed may be granted delicious, marbled meat, his own lunch was simply bread and wine, nice and light. As he ate, he glanced over to his wristwatch. Hopefully none of the Harrow Bros were gonna tell him off for this, right? Or, hell, if he were to be chastised for ‘rapscallion behavior’ by a House Lord or Lady.

Banish the thought, honestly.

…

Well, maybe company wouldn’t be bad either, even if every other House representative was so insistent on the masks they wore.

“Hey! What’re you doing on the roof?”

Aelious looked down and saw an older monk through the telescope slot.

“Get off the roof! People aren’t supposed to go up there. The retractable portion is fragile!”

“Which is why I’m treating it with care,” Aelious responded, an easy smile on his face. “So long as it isn’t damaged, there’s no reason why I can’t be up here, right?”

“...” The monk stopped as another one came running. The approaching one whispered something into his ear.

“...Alright, Sir Aureolin. But you must be careful, or we’ll be billing your lord for any expenses caused by your beast!” The monk sat down on a sofa, where he could keep an eye on the two perched on the roof.

“I’m always careful.” Aelious winked, before accidentally(?) tossing a slice of meat a little too far out. With a grunt, Freecloud lunged forward, the shifting of his weight almost(?) enough to superficially damage the roof. But there was no harm done, and the Heir looked unflappable up there, leaning back. Sipping at his wine, cheap by the standards of any blue-blooded aristocrat, the bespectacled man let out a content sigh. A nice clear day indeed.

He snapped his fingers, drawing the attention of the monk down below, and tossed over his flask of wine. “What’s your name, friend?” he asked, carefully breaking a loaf of bread in half. With an ungloved hand, Aelious picked the crumbs off his lap, while his wyvern opened up his razor-sharp maw to lick them off.

The monk below scrambled to catch the falling bottle. “Jonathan, my lord.” He looked at the flask and set it aside on one of the coffee tables. “While I may enjoy some alcohol from time to time-” The monk looked sidelong at the flask distastefully. “-I hesitate to partake in such foolishness on a roof.”

“And for that reason, I’m sharing with you.” Aelious laughed. “Suppose you’ll be watching me till I depart, so may as well take it easy till then, no?”

“Thank you for the offer, my lord, but I am on duty,” Jonathan leaned back in his chair. “How… how old is your wyvern?”

Aelious shrugged. He could respect that, at least, even if he couldn’t understand it himself. What use was being sober when you flew through the eye of a blizzard? Being completely clearminded was the task of wyverns, not their riders, after all. He ran a comforting hand over the neck scales of Freecloud. Good thing he had enough brains and good sense for the both of them, neh?

“Eleven,” the Heir replied, switching his legs to one side so he could more easily face the bald-headed monk. “Freecloud’s got ‘bout twenty or more years to go before he can retire and be a stud, so till then, Imma get him as many accolades as possible. Why the question though? Own one yourself?”

The monk shrugged. “Making small talk,” he called.

A blonde woman strode up to the sitting Brother. “Could you possibly be any louder?” she asked. “Who are you even- Oh. An Aureolin.”

It was Esmeralda Nols, uptight as ever. The woman could write a novel in the dirt with the stick up her ass.

“Lady Nols,” Aelious kept his swashbuckling grin on, tipping an invisible hat in the direction of the trade mogul. “Come to pay respects too?”

“Only if it’s your house’s funeral, Aelious. How’s Althein?” Each word dripped with annoyance.

“Here’s to hoping you’ve the same constitution as Lord Balaur then,” Aelious replied, unperturbed. Thorny as Esmeralda was, the Aureolin Heir found her attitude refreshingly sour. It was easy to see where he stood with her, if nothing else. “And Althein’s doing wonderfully; he’s rather looking forward to seeing the new Immolis Lord, really. Have you brought Carrey with you, milady? Or is he still at the estate?”

“Carrey’s at home. I see you’ve still remained single. Figures- Nobody in their right mind would care to marry you.”

“You see that?” Aelious lifted his brows, surprised. “I’m flattered you’d pay so much attention, Lady Nols.” Freecloud snorted as well, the wyvern’s bright eyes crinkling around the corners.

“Only because you topped the list of ‘most eligible bachelors in Croania,’ surprisingly. I believe Dalris’s wyvern captain put it together. It’s fitting that one who rides beasts would find one such as yourself attractive.”

The Heir grinned. “I’m sure I cut quite the dashing figure when viewed from afar. No doubt if they ever encounter me as you do though, they too would see me as absolutely insufferable.”

Nols shook her head. “Incredible. Was that a shred of self-awareness I just saw? Why I-”

“Lady Nols,” Jonathan cut in. “I understand you have some, erm, choice words to say, but could you please take it somewhere else? Your shouting has disturbed the other guests.” He waved around the observatory. Aelious could see Verity Seler glowering in the far corner of the observatory.

Looked like the Seler Heiress would have benefited from some snug earmuffs, huh? Aelious bowed apologetically towards the stern-faced woman, before turning back to the other stern-faced one. “Well, care to join me up here for some quieter conversation, or shall you save the rest for tomorrow, Lady Nols?”

She sneered. “If I went up there, I might throw myself off before a full minute passes. No, I’ll speak to you at the talks. Be ready, Aelious.” She turned on her heel and left.

Damn, must be real fun, being Wester Nols. Aelious shook his head, chuckling to himself. Solaris and Immolis, Aureolin and Nols. Althein was certainly gonna have a blast with this, wasn’t he? Letting out a breath, the bespectacled man snapped his fingers, a concentrated jet of air bursting from the table and popping his flask of wine back into his hand.

“Well, Lady Seler, Jonathan, apologies once more for that little lover’s spat, and I pray that the peace of this observatory remains undisturbed for the forseeable future.”

A click of his tongue, and Freecloud unfurled his wings, diving off the roof and falling back into the sky.

𝕋he 𝕆bservatory

---

A pointed finger traced the outline of a star chart. A constellation of a woman embracing a great dog. Stemia, it was called. A woman with a gentle and kind heart that could tame even the most wild of beasts. A name that once was popular on Croan that had slowly become more and more uncommon, until there were barely a hundred with it.

The name of Verity’s mother.

She pulled her finger away from the wall with a huff. It hadn’t been easy, getting the old man away from her. Vector was hopeless, so it wasn’t a surprise when he decided to just follow her around all day. But she’d managed to drop him off in the grand hall, with the promise of conversation with Kothlin. If only Verity could get him to go home as well. It would be so much easier.

That was why she was there, after all. To try and salvage the wreck that was her father going into that meeting representing a house he hadn’t governed for more than a week. It was then that she decided to acknowledge the man next to her. Her brother, the hot-headed one: Veer. He was also staring at the star chart, but his expression was vacant and bored. Well, he had never had much patience.

“So, father is here,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“If I can’t get into that meeting as the representative of House Seler, our best interests become meaningless,” Verity added. Her gaze drifted to another constellation. Veritus, her own namesake. The image of a sea monster swimming across the sky. Free to do as it wanted. The life her father had taken from her.

“Yeah.”

“That man doesn’t care for House Seler. Not one bit.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s merge with House Lapseus. I hear Melodia and Rhythmia are both single and beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Veer replied blankly. Verity slapped him.

“Listen to me, Second!” she snapped. Veer hit her back.

“I am listening! I’m just… thinking about stuff, alright. No need to pull rank on something so trivial.”

“What could be more important than this? No, we must deal with the matter at hand. Anything else comes, well, second.”

“That wasn’t funny. Just go dissociate to your little mind beach and figure it out yourself,” Veer said, glaring at his sister. Her gaze didn’t move from the wall.

“There’s more to it than that, Veer. You know, when we were kids, it’s where we used to-”

“Oh, stop it. I’ve heard this twenty times before, and I really don’t care.”

“Is that so?” Verity didn’t bother paying attention to the answer. She knew it already. So not to stoke Veer’s temper, she didn’t persist. “Then I’ll talk to father myself. We’ll see if it gets anywhere…” No response. They stood there for a few more minutes before Veer left with a huff. He never did have much patience.

“I wonder where we went wrong,” Verity murmured, tracing the constellations once more.

---

The sun sets on Harrow's Tower.
The evening has begun.

Rhy̢thmia L̛ap̢şe҉u͘s

Afternoon & Evening, Harrow's Tower Garden

---

After the sisters settled into their room and Melodia expressed her interest in heading to the library, Rhythmia simply nodded and trusted that she would be alright between the Brothers in the tower and their own servants flitting about. Though most of them would be staying off site, there were a few that remained and explored the area. Vati, one of their most trusted personal guards, remained behind with Rhythmia though he didn’t look very happy about it. Both he and Rhythmia agreed that the other Lapesus Lord probably wanted to read in peace, so Vati didn’t put up much of a fight when Melodia waved him off, but the sour expression on his face remained.

Rhythmia laid down on one of the room’s two beds and closed her eyes, intending to lay there for the rest of the night. It was nearly fifteen minutes of listening to Vati huff, pace, and try and find something to do in the small space before Rhythmia sighed and cracked an eye open, tilting her head slightly to look at him.

“...Vati.”

“Oh! Uh, yes, Lady Rhythmia?” Vati paused in the middle of his restless walking, blinking at her.

“...get some air. It’s not every day you get to see places like this. Go do something.”

The young man looked a little torn, wondering whether he should stay and uphold his duty to protect the Lapeus twins (though one was currently away) or take Rhythmia up on her suggestion. After a moment his shoulders drooped slightly and he gave a little smile.

“...sure.” He gathered a few things and exchanged a brief goodbye with the room’s other occupant before shutting the door behind him. Rhythmia sighed again and turned over, trying to sleep the afternoon away. Her rest was spotty, she woke up every now and then and couldn’t fall deeply asleep. She supposed it was still the middle of the day, not really the best time to catch up on sleep. Still, she had no desire to explore the ground at the moment...

The coming and going of people throughout the residency level of Harrow’s Tower didn’t particularly bother Rhythmia, but something was slowly getting to her. An itchy, unpleasant feeling that gradually grew the longer she laid there while listening to people talk as they roamed the hall outside. With every back and forth of words and pass of footsteps, the unnamed feeling grew. At first, Rhythmia ignored it even as it scratched at her consciousness. Then, she tried to identify it. It had been a truly long time since she’d felt this way, so realizing what she was feeling took a bit longer than she would have liked.

Uselessness.

While her sister and her trusted guard were off learning, maybe making connections both good and bad, she was sequestered in her room. Rhythmia had no shortage of responsibilities back in Lapseus territory, whether it was assisting in governing affairs or “on the job.” Here, however, she was little more than protection and a second opinion. She took no issue with this fact, but it still made the grating feeling of “uselessness” arise.

Well, time to find something to do then.

The second Lapseus Lord made her way out of the room and the Tower as night fell. She roamed the grounds, avoiding all people she came across until eventually she arrived at the well kept garden area. The garden was beautiful- some plants carried a strong bioluminescence, bathing the garden in ethereal light. Rhythmia let herself enjoy it for a few moments - simply standing in the center and staring quietly at the flowers.

Minutes later it clicked in her mind that perhaps some of these plants might be useful for something other than pleasing the eye. Slowly, almost robotically, the deceptively young looking woman approached the nearest bunch of flowers and reached her flesh hand in to grasp one at the root.

“The Brothers won’t like that. They’ve already had to deal with the Immolis kids using the plants for dramatic effect.”

It was Alexander Reason, alone. He was still dressed in the horribly clashing outfit- suit, cape, and a top hat. The sound of his voice gave Rhythmia pause, though she didn’t turn around immediately. Her hand hovered on the base of the plant for what seemed like an achingly long time before she finally turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder at the young man.

It had been a while since she’d met any of the other house lords or heirs face to face - in public they tended to avoid her as much as she avoided them. Still, even more unexpected was not that the young Reason had approached her, but that he was without his fiancee or any type of guide. If she recalled correctly, this heir was blind. The woman’s eyes searched the garden seeking anyone who might have accompanied him, but finding no one. Ah. She sympathized with Alexander somewhat. In her youth she’d been blinded before replacing her damaged eye, it wasn’t a good experience but then again, Alexander had been born that way so perhaps he was more used to it.

Rhythmia did not voice any of these thoughts, of course.

Instead she studied the man quietly, enough time to make most fidget, before asking, “...dramatic effect...?”

“Whew. You talked. I was worried that I was just talking to the air again.” Reason laughed. “Yeah, dramatic effect. The kids were arguing and smashing flowers underfoot, burning them, and even freezing them. Definitely trying to show their angst and pain through displays of magic. Didn’t see it myself, obviously.” He shrugged.

What a waste, the white-haired lord thought. Ripped apart for no reason was surely a sad fate for any living thing. When she and her sister ripped things apart, piece by piece or limb from limb, there was always something to gain from it.

She turned to fully face Reason, letting her hand return to her side for now. Even blind, the man would be able to tell that Rhythmia wasn’t taking any particular joy in his humor at the moment. She stared at him hard, though it wasn’t a malicious look - she was simply trying to recall the name of Reina’s daughter who usually accompanied the masked Reason. House Young was so close with Lapseus too… oh, that was it.

“Christina?” a simple question as to the whereabouts of the tech heir.

“Ah, Tina? She’s off doing who-knows-what. Left me alone in our room, and I couldn’t really sleep, so I decided to take a walk. Get some air.”

Not even an acknowledging hum left Rhythmia’s mouth after Reason answered. She supposed the flower-scented air of a garden such as this would be nice even if one couldn’t appreciate the colors or arrangement of the plants. Rhythmia kept a puzzled look on Alexander for a few more moments before she turned away again, keeping half of her attention on the man and the other half returning to her original task. The Brothers that tended to the Tower didn’t concern her much. She plucked the most unfamiliar looking flower within reach, holding it tenderly as she examined it.

“Don’t have flowers like this... in Lapseus,” she murmured. House Young was a strong ally of her own house, and this man would be marrying into it. It might be best to try and get along for now, especially before such an important gathering. “Swamps, and dry fields.”

“Lapse- Ohhh... You must be Rhythmia Lapseus. That explains the- never mind. Yeah, the Harrow’s Garden is very unique. Everything here just bursts with life.” He smiled. “I’m sure the Brothers won’t mind if you pick that flower; they’ve got plenty to spare.”

Explains the what? she wanted to ask. Instead she quirked her brow slightly.

“You knew I picked the flower... but not who I was?” This amused her somewhat, and she hoped her identity revealed didn’t chase Reason away before she learned how that was possible.

“Life, Miss Lapseus. You seem to be missing some of it in key areas. You also disconnected some life from the rest of life all around us.” Reason gathered his cape behind him and sat down. "That’s all I can really sense, though. Just life surrounding me. It’s a beautiful symphony of energy. Rather like a crowd, but much, much more lethargic.”

‘Key areas’ indeed. His comment had Rhythmia glancing briefly down at her mechanical body parts, though she wasn’t sure that was exactly what he meant. Over the decades she’d learned that men, especially those of the South, whether they were kind or not, loved to speak poetically even when the situation didn’t call for it. Still, if he was being literal, it might explain his earlier words.

“Interesting,” that was all Rhythmia could think to say. Like the flowers, she had an inkling of an idea to bring Reason back with her to study. She wondered if Melodia, with her closeness to the Young lord and Alexander’s soon to be mother-in-law, knew about his strange ‘life sense,’ or if it was something common among the blind. Interesting, yes.

Something caught her attention, at the very edge of her vision. Someone was entering the garden- Lord Jevin Pachel, with a red-haired woman she didn’t recognize. Lord Pachel didn’t notice Rhythmia or Reason as he entered, his attention fixated on his partner.

“Who just came in?” asked Reason.

“Pachel,” she supplied, her voice a quiet tone as always. Since she didn’t know the woman he was with, she didn’t mention her. Rhythmia looked over at them to get a better look though she didn’t move.

“Just Pachel?”

“...woman, red head.”

“...Redhead? What’s she wearing?”

Why does it matter? Rhythmia thought, letting a sigh escape through her nose before she answered, “black, gold buttons. Pachel house crest.”

The blind heir cackled softly. “Knew it. He’s cheating on Alana. There were rumors that he was seeing another woman, but to think that she’d be a Northerner. I’ll have to pester Miss Dalris about this later. It explains why his views have been shifting these past few months.”

Simple adultery, how fascinating. Rhythmia rolled her eyes, letting Reason plot how he would let the news slip. She turns back to the flower bed, plucking a few more of different kinds. She glanced back over at Lord Pachel and his apparent mistress, wondering if it really was the reason his stance was beginning to change. If it was, well not that it was any of her business, but it would be a silly one. Listening to a single person over the heads of the three Northern houses, who’d been telling those in the South about their worsening conditions? Idiotic, maybe even a little shameful.

She left the two mageborn in the garden with a bundle of flowers clutched tightly in her hand.

It was a fierce ambush; none of the pirates aboard the Ironmaw had ever witnessed a single ship, let alone three, appear from nothing.

The first jumpers wasted no time dropping mispositioned outlaws like startled children, but the pirates were quick to counter-engage. They were crafty, underhanded fighters, and knew the ins and outs of traditional military technique. So too were they underestimated, but even moreso to their benefit was the experience gap between themselves and the bulk of these soldiers. In single combat, any one of these lifelong pirates, some while tipsy, outmatched these grunts, and proved as much in the first half of this skirmish. Outlaw blades gutted the first soldiers aboard following their ambush. Halifax too broke into action without hesitation; his blazing red gate swept over the first wave of inbound soldiers, spewing great swathes of fire. The sides broke even, and soon soldier casualties outnumbered those of the pirates.

Unbeknownst to Tobias, the other of the two mageborn among the Blazing Irons had ripped three gates into existence: one per ship. From the wheelhouse, Rathas could barely fit them all into her line of sight, straining to maintain her angle through the window as she channeled in three separate locations. Given that the soldiers had no clue from where the gates came from or what they were capable of, a few broke formation and tried to flee through the crowd. The chaos stifled the flow of soldiers to the Ironmaw, and it was a matter of time before the issue escalated. Violently. Despite this, a great many already made the jump, and their advantage in numbers pushed the skirmish to Rathas' peripheral. The conflict was mottled; smudges moved, and stopped, and howled...

A crack of the whip. The gates.

Streams of blazing red--she couldn't see them, but could well sense them--spiralled towards each. The hairs on her arms stood straight as a sweaty palm snatched a wall-bound pipe for support. Muffled cries of battle and clattering blades grew further. She let her mind clear itself.

A harsh whistle pierced the morning air.

Rathas's eyes widened as they revealed their ace. Around the masts of each ship, nine gates fluttered alight: three per water mageborn. Hunks of ice, blunt and sharp, ejected from them at breakneck speeds.

Rathas couldn't make out what exactly was happening. Her skull throbbed; feelings of exhilaration and faint affected her simultaneously. Adrenaline pushed her through it all. Sweat slipped into her eyes and its sting went ignored.

The wheelhouse stopped rattling. Bad sign. Now that it was clear, more soldiers jumped to the Ironmaw.

They were looking for the other mageborn.

Her gates pulsed a bright, smoldering red. A chunk of ice smacked the window. Good guess. With pressing intensity, she focused. Each water mageborn caught on and took aim at the window. Her gates pulsed again. A blunt wad of ice smashed it through, inviting frigid air to tear through the wheelhouse.

The door crashed open.

Her eye twitched. The final volley of ice sailed towards the wheelhouse.

This was it.

Two of the three gates thrusted towards the congregations of unused manpower on the more crowded ships. The third swung back to the Ironmaw, to the group who thought they would be safe there.

She let go, and the sky flashed a devastating shade of red just before a pommel clocked her behind the ear.

@GreenGoat

---

"Some suspicious figure is going about and slinging axes at people's doors. I want you all to be on watch," Yamarr said to the constables. Taft was a small town, but its police force was fairly well equipped. Each member had a sharpened sabre, baton, blinding spray, and whatever gate they themselves possessed. It was certainly enough to keep a town of several thousand safe.

Yamarr had sent the three teenagers home after calling for the police, and he now stood in the center of a circle on the cobblestones just outside his home. The rain lifted a few minutes prior to the meeting, and they now stood on the slick road, illuminated by the locked-up gemlights in the streetlamps.

The constables nodded and split up after receiving Yamarr's account of what had transpired that night. Lendal had died, the beastman was served justice, and now there was some mentally-deranged warmongerer throwing axes at doors. It certainly was the most excitement the town had gotten since the bank teller's daughter had ran away with a passing gypsy caravan. The day would certainly be remembered in the town's history.

Though, something even stranger was happening. A curious white powder was spreading through the air. It looked almost like snow... Yamarr reached out and brushed some with his hand. Fluffy, like pollen. But it was getting close to winter now. Why would there be pollen?

He suddenly felt rather... sluggish. Maybe he could... just take a rest on the ground, just for a moment. The cobbles were just so inviting...

Eska

---

This was it. There was barely any resistance, and what few that could still raise their swords or trying to work their magic was too weakened by the poisonous pollen to pose much threat. Regardless, she gave them a quick warrior's death. There was a certain kind of honor and integrity she could respect to continue fighting for their tribe, to feel the need to defend them even at the cost of their own lives. Considering it was nighttime, Eska doubted most of them would even know they were either dying or dead.

The place was eerily silent now, only her footsteps echoed throughout the streets as she made her way slowly to their chief's house. Reaching the main square, she turned her gaze upwards, the tree still slightly growing, the roots pushing the cobblestones apart as they worked their way deeper and wider to sustain it. The tree would serve as a monument to what happened here, with a record of what caused this to transpire to be inscribed on it later.

Reaching the chief collapsed in front of his fancy abode, she propped him up against his door, and decapitated him unceremoniously with the axe stuck in the door.

There was... nothing.

After all that, her rage had fizzled out, and replaced by nothing. Just nothing. Not even the feeling of strength thrumming throughout her body could alleviate that feeling. Her vision grew blurry, as she realized her knees had gone weak, her view being of the night sky as she collapsed. The mask had fallen, and warm tears streaked down her cheeks as she tried to choke back the unseemly noises she was making.

Jiko was gone.

Her only companion, her only friend, the one who had been by her side for so long. Gone because she wanted to gather a few more herbs before dark. Such foolishness, a idiotic move on her part. And now she had waged war on another tribe because of her own anger, killed more than she should. How was she to face her now, even if she did find her? How would she explain this to Jiko? She did not deserve all this power. For a moment, her mind went towards her knife, and how much it might solve if she just killed herself. Jiko will be strengthened, and she would regain her honor. Just for a moment however; she had not even the strength to even try.

"Jiko..." Eska sobbed. "What... what do I even do now..."

^{[Aelious + Elise, with a dash of Leras]}

Damn was it loud.

The evening had just begun settling in, and the smell of profit was in the air, spiced meats and simmered soups drowning out the stench of unwashed bodies and sweating beasts. After a hard day of work, miners and labourers flooded the streets, following their habits and their senses to whatever open-air restaurant caught their eye. And damn, were there lots of them. Merchants peddled exotic wares, yes, but others had to feed those merchants with their exotic tastes, and a wonderful cultural of cuisine burst to life every night at Harrow’s Keep. Though Freecloud could be satisfied with a bloody chunk of fatty meat, and though other nobility were perfectly comfortable with their home chefs’ artful delights, Aelious strode through the streets looking for something more...interesting.

He had heard, after all, of curious delicacies such as roasted lamb arranged upon a vertical spit and slow-roasted from the side. Of simple potatoes, transformed into beautifully fried spirals laden with spices. Of colorfully layered vegetable preserves, jams and sauces chilled until they had a bite to them. And oh, the sheer breadth of alcohol available! From earthy beers to bright bubblies to seasoned wines, from all corners of the world. Though the bespectacled Heir was no glutton or alcoholic, the prospect of a new discovery, a new flavour, still excited him.

A more boring person could have simply ordered all those things and had it shipped to their estate, of course, but that’d ruin the fun of it, wouldn’t it? A more vain person could have come to the market and demanded all the best, deigning the act of shopping beneath him, but that’d make Aelious puke. It was one thing to put up a dashing posture from afar, quite another to live the reality of being a spoiled prick. He had dressed down for the occasion instead, his ornate cloak swapped with something of similar quality, though lacking in fine embroidery, and he wore a simple collared shirt and suspender trousers underneath. Still a tier above what the working class had, but he’d pass for an affluent merchant, one with a taste for a fine saber. And in the amber glow of night, it’d take a perceptive fellow to see past his gleaming glasses into the heterochromatic eyes beneath.

Feeling secure in his anonymity and perhaps even slightly eager for some trouble, Aelious strode through the scented streets, seeking something interesting to break his evening fast with.

There was an awful lot of choice. It soon became apparent that Aelious was not the only person searching for a nice place to eat. A little behind him, for some time, was a pair of bickering women that were gradually becoming louder and louder. It was beginning to become something of a shouting match.

“No, we can’t go there. I’ve heard too much seafood is bad for you, Elise.”

“Northern propaganda! I shall eat all the oysters I like, and you cannot stop me.”

“Heard seafood was a good alternative to meat myself,” Aelious said, passing by them. “High in protein, low in fat, and naturally seasoned with salted water.” He broke into a lopsided grin towards Lady Dalris and her sword-bearing retainer. “Suppose they spread such propaganda in hopes of keeping such miracle-food to themselves, don’t you think, Lady Dalris?”

Leras blinked, staring at the strange man who had just intruded in their conversation. It took her a minute before she was actually able to identify him, while her lady’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh, Mister Aelious,” she gasped. “What a surprise! You look fantastic. Leras, say hello.”

She didn’t.

“Well, I’ll deal with you later,” Elise said. “Honestly, I’ve been surrounded by commoners all day! Now, it isn’t as if I dislike commoners, but they truly are filthy.” She turned to walk alongside Aelious, taking Leras with her. “It really is a pleasure.”

“Indeed it is,” Aelious rumbled, ducking under the flaps of the stall. “Quite a shame that we’ve yet to make plumbing affordable for all the small folk of our domains; with proper hygiene, I’d reckon that these markets would be so much more pleasant to be in.”

As he spoke, he flicked the brass bell hanging from the side of the stall, catching the owner’s attention. Pointing towards one particularly delectable set of grilled oysters, the meat simmering in its own juices, the heir ordered two for himself, before turning back to his lady companion. “Suppose you’re sampling for that food review publication I’ve been hearing about recently? Or just for personal pleasure?”

“Just because I can, really,” Elise said. “Leras, get… four for me, and then anything you want for yourself.” The guard nodded, obeying the orders. She was keeping her distance from the two, but she still watched Aelious with eyes like a hawk. “Why, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t gone out for food in months. Though, since it’s my birthday next week, I suppose I could spare some time for that.” She clicked her tongue, expression brightening. “Enough about me. It’s been some time, isn’t it? I want to know how you are. Come on, come on! What has the heir to House Aureolin been getting up to lately?”

“Oh, just the same as always,” Aelious grinned. “Slaying dragons, saving princesses, and riding off into the sunset. With the occasional drudgery of moving around Althein’s paperwork and all.” He paused for comedic effect, before saying with mock secrecy, “And I have it on pretty good authority that Lady Nols still hates me, if you could believe that. Don’t suppose your guard there is her in disguise?”

Elise squinted at Leras. She looked serious. “Hmm. I... don’t think so. Though I wouldn’t put it past Miss Esmerelda - if a woman was ever a snake in disguise, it would be her. The sheer amount of paperwork and numbers that get sent our way! You’d think a house like that would be able to deal with its own problems.” She huffed. “And don’t even get me started on the rest of House Nols.”

“I’m sure it’s the nature of their work that bides them to act in such manner, Lady Dalris,” Aelious replied. “We’re all products of our professions, after all. Just that some have more difficulty than others separating their personalities from their responsibilities.” As he spoke, the stall owner began plating the oysters, drizzling lemon juice and pinches of seasoning on top of the meat. The Heir let out a low whistle at the aroma.

“We’ll both have plenty of time to gripe about our Nols-based grievances tomorrow, Lady Dalris. For now, let’s just enjoy the food, shall we?”

“Oh, but I haven’t even gotten started on that man... Miss Esmerelda’s husband, whatever his name is. There’s so much that really, it’s difficult not to talk about,” Elise whined. She watched the oysters out of the corner of her eye with delight. “But I will say, I am hungry.”

“Wester,” Aelious supplied, before going on to supply plates of oyster to Elise as well. Taking his own share, the man pierced it with the toothpick and watched as the glistening juices flowed out. Delightful, truly. He raised the plate to Elise as a small toast, before going right at it.

…

Damn, that was some fine seafood. Eternal youth may not be so difficult to achieve after all.

Elise passed the plates off to Leras as soon as she got them, leaving the poor bodyguard to juggle her lady’s other three plates as well as her own. “You ought to be nicer, Miss Dalris. You never know when it’ll come back to bite you,” she grumbled, but didn’t protest.

As for Elise herself, she wasted no time in eating the oysters. For such a refined woman, the look in her eyes was oddly primal. “Oh, these are good,” she muttered, pouring the liquid in the shell down her throat. “Oh, these are good! I haven’t had oysters in too long.” She piled the empty shells up on one of the plates Leras was holding. “I’ll go off on a whim and say you like seafood too, then?”

Aelious polished off his own oysters with enthusiastic gusto. The broth may have actually been better than the meat itself, and he wished he had some fresh bread to dip it in. Techniques to apply for another day though. “Seafood’s quite a staple in House Aureolin’s lands. With my usual forays in the interior territories, I don’t have as many chances as I’d like to enjoy it.” A pause, then a grin. “So I suppose I do quite like it.”

As he spoke, he nonchalantly whisked a couple empty plates from Leras’s arms, stacking them on top of his own. “Where’s our next stop, Lady Dalris? Have another hidden gem in mind?”

The guard dipped her head in gratitude. “House Dalris is rather good for seafood as well. A pity I never have the time for it.” Elise gestured at the door, starting to make her exit. “I was planning to pick up a few gifts, and perhaps stop off for a little more food along the way. I’d be delighted if you accompanied me, if it would please you.”

“Tis the duty of any gentleman to escort a lady as lovely as you through such vulgar streets,” Aelious responded, tongue-in-cheek. “Though I’d do so even as a wayward scoundrel, if only for the pleasure of your company.”

“Ever the charmer, aren’t you?” Elise said, batting her eyelashes. “Ah, a real shame. Two more years… oh, but don’t mind that. Come now, you’d better be keeping me safe from any ruffians that care to follow us.”

“Rest assured, m’lady, though I’d imagine that even the keenest blades will be insufficient for thwarting what scandals we leave in our wake.”

15th day of Anais

---

Harrow’s Keep was even more beautiful in the evening. The streets were faintly illuminated by the golden light of the dying sun, with the fires from lamps and candles casting a warm glow over the area. Even at this time, many people were still out and about. The atmosphere was more relaxed than it had been in the morning, however, crowded streets and rabid bartering replaced with gentle chit-chat and laughter.

Not everyone spent the evening pleased. No longer having to worry about shoving people out of the way, Leras Grant was dragging her lady through the streets, her sharp voice cutting through the ambient noise.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Eli- my lady! It isn’t difficult to just stay with me. If you wanted to talk to people, just let me be with you,” she snapped. “See, it was fine when we were with the Aureolin boy. There really isn’t any need to run off. What if something had happened to you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Elise whined back.

“And if you couldn’t? The amount of luck that brought you into this world, and you’d let yourself leave it just like that?”

“Oh, Leras. I’ve heard this so many times before. Spare me, will you?”

“You’re nothing short of a miracle, my lady. The first daughter of a lord with a useless gate and a woman with no magic whatsoever - and look at you. Lady Cassandra can’t have more children and Lord Alfonse refuses to have any other women. The second you leave my sight, House Dalris is as good as fallen.”

“I know, I know, I just-”

“Bad people don’t care about what you know.”

Elise pulled Leras to a stop. She huffed. “Is there not anyone else that can babysit me?”

“Do you despise me that much, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“You’d do better to treat me well. Stay with me or go back to the tower,” Leras said. Elise just whined.

“If we must.”

It was at this moment someone bumped into Elise, the pair nearly falling over onto each other. Yet even as gravity pulled them down, a gust of wind passed through Elise's hair and across her body in that direction, and the someone that had collided with her was holding on tight.

For Leras, it was a more obvious picture. An avian beastman hadn't been looking where she was going and nearly toppled her Lady over. But they were saved the misfortune of actually hitting the ground by a strong flapping of the Avian's wings, pulling the two back to a standing position. The woman was dressed in a set of armor that looked ready for a play, it was so unique.

"A thousand apologies, miss. Are you alright?" The avian asked as she let go of Elise, though was still ready to catch her if the woman was still unsteady.

“I- Well, I’m quite-” Elise started, eyes darting to Leras as her guard reached for her sword.

A sharp and sudden blow to the back of the leg would crumble Rendyl to her knees, eliciting a high pitched yelp of pain.
“Do it properly!”
A righteous voice warned, monotone and cold, filled with a silent disappointment and anger for having to correct his servants actions.

The slave nodded and touched her head to the ground, folded over her still stinging knees. "Please forgive this stupid slave, Miss."

“It is not a servant’s place to touch a lady without request.”
Drakus stood tall and imposing behind the kneeling avian, garbed in his finest noble clothing fit for an appearance of a lord, brandishing an ornate sabre prominently sheathed at his side. While he spoke to Rendyl, his steely eyes were affixed to Leras.

“Don't you agree Miss Grant?”

Along with Rendyl kneeling before them, Drakus was surrounded by a small entourage of people. Women dressed finely, servants clearly distinguished and another armed guard.

Abbi watched near her maid and guard near the back of the train. She kept her body language still as Rendyl had been teaching her to do. It was not easy as her temper moved almost as quick as her tongue. But her face showed her disgust and anger in its color. The use of pain wasn’t needed, Rendyl would have humiliated herself willingly for her master. Abbi had already been told by Rendyl that Lord Drakus had to treat her rough and that she should not be overly kind to her. She was trying but, like some of the martial combat games, she found them to be plainly barbaric. Abbi’s maid put a hand on her mouth and pulled Abbi’s arm up locking hers with her hand covering the fist Abbi was making. Her guard also aware moved the pair off to the side so they were out of the way since a weapon was drawn.

Leras sheathed her sword once more, blowing a strand of ashy brown hair from her face. She regarded Rendyl with a strange mix of disgust and pity. After a few seconds she had noticed the wings - the mark of an inferior race, yet to see someone of the same position her be treated in such a way was aggravating. She didn’t care to hide her displeasure. “I would think that one of you Immolis brats would-”

Elise cut in as soon as the name of Drakus’s former house came out. “Oh, Drakus, Drakus! What a pleasure!” She stepped in front of Leras, clasping her hands together and looking delighted. Her smile slipped as she glanced down at Rendyl, but quickly reformed as she looked back up at her childhood friend. “Oh, you mustn’t worry about your little birdie, no harm done. No, there are much more important things to think about! Drakus, Drakus. It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Behind her, Leras stood uneasily. She looked ever so slightly less hostile, though her hand still rested on the hilt of her blade.

Along with the armor, Rendyl also had her shield strapped to her back, though at that moment on her knees with her forehead against the ground, her wings weren't hiding underneath the highly decorated shield.

Drakus smiled and bowed deeply, breathing in and savouring the familiar voice. As he lifted from his bow, he shot a malicious challenging glare at Leras before creating a near inaudible click.
” It truly has my lady, it truly has.”

The avian heard the click and quickly got to her feet, sparing a second to wipe her forehead before straightening, ignoring the pains in both her legs and pride. Her eyes remained downcast, and Rendyl stepped backward to fall in behind her Master.

There was a pause and a slow exhale as Drakus stood admiring his old friend, seeing her again for the first time in a long time, features slightly different, adorned in a new dress, yet still the same girl beneath. No woman.
It caused a secret and silent fight against the zone of nostalgic familiarity and comfort that surrounded her. It was one perhaps exclusive to him, that only he experienced, it came from knowing her for many years. Truly knowing her, and knowing that she too knew him, or at least the truest version of himself.
Almost growing up together, they shared much between themselves.
From grand ambitions to dirty little secrets, they shared it all, and not just their own.
Back then things were simple, she was simple. And honest. With him at least anyway. In ways, she was closer to him than his brothers ever were. Sister like, she seemed to understand him better than most.
For this they had an odd sense of honesty. Brutal with their deep truths but not afraid to shy away from superficial lies if it benefitted themselves, but they were also honest about that.

Around her Drakus didn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He didn’t have to act or hide. She bore no weight or expectations on him like the rest of the world. They had openly shared their ambitions and pride before each other without judgment. For this, Drakus could let down his guard, relax his towering walls that encased him and remove the many heavy burdensome masks he layered upon his face throughout the day. Finally, for the first time in a long time, he might be able to breathe easily in the presence of another.
Just in the act of nearing her the world became lighter.

And for that his first mask began to slip away, the one that refused to let him have a true smile, the one that limited his expressions to those either serious or spiteful. There were muscles on his face that had been tensed or forced for so long that they forgot how to be in any other state, until now.

Feeling it coming on, yearning for it, Drakus caught the mask and held it in place for one moment more, waving a hand he spoke. “Now leave us!” He commanded, looking around to all that were not lords... even Rendyl.

“Miss Grant needs an escort back to the tower and Lady Eliona could use some company to the amphitheater.” he commanded, almost letting his servants and followers decide their own fates, almost, all whilst his eyes never left Elise.

“Oh, you’re dramatic as ever,” Elise said. She waved her hand at Leras. “Very well, then! Off you go, Leras.”

Leras pulled out her blade ever so slightly, gritting her teeth. She released the hilt and walked up to Elise, staring at Drakus with narrowed eyes. “I won’t allow it, Elise,” she muttered to the taller woman. “I don’t like the look of this one.”

“Drakus is perfectly trustworthy! Honestly, you’re so stiff. Why don’t you go and enjoy yourself? If I recall… you wanted to go to that amphitheatre, didn’t you? The markets, too.” Elise replied, at full volume.

Leras flushed. “How did you-”

“Oh, you mentioned it on the way here,” Elise said, smiling angelically. “Run along now. I’ll even pay you back for anything you buy along the way if you’re quick.” Leras grimaced, though there was a hint of a smile too. As insufferable as her airheaded lady could be, she didn’t dislike Elise at all. They argued frequently, but it was all in good spirit. That was just how their relationship was. Underneath all of that was a mutual understanding and respect. Well, that was how she felt about it at the very least.

“Well, then,” Leras said, clearing her throat. “I’ll be going. I will accompany your Lady… Eliona, if you would like me to. Of course, Lord Immolis, if you’d rather I didn’t, I would happily go on my own.”

"Lord Solaris. Of House Solaris." Rendyl spoke up firmly, seemingly defying her station once again. This did not seem to trouble her lord, instead a slight proud smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Rendyl was stationed right behind him, That is, up until the moment he stepped away towards his old friend. It clearly didn’t sit well with her to be without a shoulder to stand at, and so she moved over to attend Lady Eliona.

Lady Eliona graciously accepted all aid with a pleasant soft smile and thankful nod. Her murky eyes moving emptily to the direction of the body behind each voice or touch.

“The streets are no place for nobility to mingle. We should find some place more suited to continue our conversation.” he suggested. Eyeing off a young dirty child hugging and peering around a corner wall.

“They’re quite pleasant if you ignore all of the dirt, you’ll find,” Elise laughed. “But very well. I’ve heard there’s a wonderful cafe near here. My treat, of course. I take it you’re hungry? I have eaten already, but I’d fancy a little more.”

“A cafe?” He questioned. “How… quaint, I guess I could sample some of the local delicacies. Very well, please allow me to escort you my lady.”

Drakus offered Elise the crook of his elbow. Upon her touch, her close proximity, her presence and aroma he felt his second mask begin to tremble, threatening to fall away. It was the mask of walls, the one that held his constant rigid posture and cold demeanour, the one that scoffed at affection and held compassion at bay always screaming ‘weakness’ at it. This ghost from his past was causing cracks in his armour, and he wasn’t yet sure how he felt about it.

Elise gave one last wave to Leras before she took Drakus’s arm. “It’s just a few minutes from here. Thank the goddess, I couldn’t bear these shoes any longer.” Indeed, her heels that only added to her height looked very uncomfortable. She sounded less enthusiastic, but really, she was just feeling more relaxed. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. I trust you’ve been well?”

“Well?” Drakus let out a half chuckle half scoff at the notion. At only a few steps with this woman he was already starting to relax.
He looked to the sky as he contemplated his words. Preparing for an old game they used to play of truths and lies.

“I have made a living free creature into a slave and kept them against their will.

I publicly executed a religious man under the guise of a fair competition when their was none. I simply wished to silence him.

I not only knew that a man was plotting against my wishes but I aided him to do so and he still lives.

I have in my employ a servant who’s parents death was by my own fault, a fact they are not aware of.

There has been two attempts on my life and I am still unsure of by whom.”

His words lacked the usual ployful and playful tones of trickery he used to use. It was flat and empty, each statement sounding the same as the one before it. His new strategy making it sound more like a confession.

“Oh, none of those are particularly pleasant,” Elise whined. “Still, that’s what makes it more fun, isn’t it? Nothing has ever been both bland and interesting. Anyway, where were we? Attempts on your life, that’s plausible, isn’t it? Happens much more than one would think. That’s why I have Leras around. So yes, I’d say that was true. If not, then just give it a few years.”

“Was that a threat?” He asked with a smile as he gave her a playful nudge, shaking off the seriousness of the matter. Elise hit his shoulder lightly.

“Go on.”

Elise hummed in contemplation. “A servant, hmm? You do seem to have all sorts around you. Ah, I’d call that one true as well. You don’t seem the murderous type, though. An indirect cause, I’ll say.” She smirked. “Unless there’s a part of you I have yet to see. My, my! How rude, hiding from your dear Elise.”

Had it been anyone else to assume him ‘not the murderous type’ Drakus would be tempted to prove them wrong on the spot, but coming from Elise, it made him feel. Good. He simply gave her a soft musing “Mhmm” and allowed her to continue.
His steady steps perfectly timed with hers, his eyes appreciating what they could of the streets they passed.

“A plot against you… also likely. Ah, I don’t know enough about this one. Maybe if I had gotten the chance to look through the archives beforehand. I’ll call it false, simply because I’d rather there be no one to oppose you.” She rolled her eyes. “Then the execution.” Elise paused for a minute. “False,” she decided, though she sounded unsure.

Drakus only sighed as his eyes fell to the floor. In a whisper he spoke.

“I grow so tired of fighting for that which should already be mine. his voice took a dark turn as a tired anger and frustration infiltrated his final words.

There was something liberating in sharing with this old friend of his. Something almost magical in releasing words and thoughts that had been bound for so long to only him. The realisation swept over him on his next inhale and the mask that covered all his insecurities, worries and need for companionship nearly crumbled to the floor, untill…. he remembered something.

“Elise, it truly has been too long.”
He said formally, his body shifting as he stood taller, retaking his firm posture and beginning again to move with rigid proper steps.
“I do believe it was at my fathers funeral, and even then it was only in passing.

Why, even during your more visit to Immolis you couldn’t find the time to visit. If I at all thought I could still read through your lies I might question where your loyalties lay.

Elise flinched, her posture stiffening. “Loyalties… those are to House Dalris, Drakus. The people who I associate myself with have nothing to do with that, nor our relationship. Ced-Cedric and Ruel are as much my friends as you are. I hope you can find it in you to respect that.” She looked down at the floor. “Though I do confess, I haven’t been making much time for you. Maybe you could come around next week for… nevermind. I will try and clear my schedule sometime soon for you.”

Drakus simply frowned, not content with her answer. It was a logical response. Elise did not have to choose one or the other, especially when doing so would potentially alienate her house from the other. Still, reason aside it left him uncomfortable, although nothing else she could have said would have turned out any better.
“[/color=goldenrod]You can’t toe the line for ever.[/color]”
He grumbled, relaxing slightly but not as much as before.

“[/color=goldenrod]So then, how have you been? What plots for power will your house be bringing to the table tomorrow? [/color]” he asked.

“Dalris may not have too much to show militarily, but we are still a very powerful house. We have no one to please. Why, it’s others that should be trying to get in our good books. So, we’ll be voting in our own self interest. As you may expect.”

As they continued to walk and talk they soon turned a corner. Drakus lead the way despite not knowing the path. Once around the wall Drakus quickly moved towards it as he released Elise’s hand and lifted a finger up to his lips, giving her the universal ‘shh’ motion.

There was a moment of silence and then as if on cue the sound of soft hurried footsteps approaching.

“Hmm? Drakus, what is it?” Elise asked. She didn’t whisper, speaking at the same volume she normally did. Sometimes it wasn’t clear whether she knew how to.

“The goat who thinks he’s at the top stops climbing.” Drakus said in a single exhale as he lept around the corner. Elise’s voice had caused the coming footsteps to pause but Drakus wasn’t about to let them get away. His hands found purchase on a ragged dirty collar, with ease he lifted the thin dirty child off the floor as the child squirmed around mid air, wide eyed and with panic.

“So what should we do with this rat sneaking around after us?” Drakus asked Elise, never taking his eyes off the frail street rat. She took a look at the child.

“Oh, you can’t expect much from the rabble. For every child that steals, there are ten more in hiding. Ah, Leras tells me often that I need to be nicer to common folk. In that case… well, it would do us no harm to let it run away.” She gave a pointed look to where Drakus was holding the child. “You’d better put it down too, lest you get some filthy disease.”

“Stemia’s heart must have fallen from the stars and stuck you in the chest. Drakus said with lighthearted sarcasm to Elise. He pulled the child in close and whispered something in his ear that caused his eyes to grow wide. After that he placed him on the floor and shoved him on his way before dusting his now free hands in slight disgust.

Drakus had a hundred quotes on lawlessness at the ready, stored within the back of his mind, deeply ingrained into his very being through repetitious chants, mantras and house brainwashing, but that was not him anymore and he pushed the thoughts away.

“Sorry for the disturbance M’lady. Shall we?”
He offered his arm once again so they could continue their journey.

Elise took it. “Oh, sometimes I forget how repulsive commoners can be. I had spent so much time inside that it had slipped my mind. Well, I… ah, nevermind.”

“Come on, don’t be so secretive with me. You have told me little of how you have been and what you have been up to.”

“Just the usual,” she groaned. “You know how House Dalris is. It’s work, work, work. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, Drakus. I haven’t left the estate in months. I’m glad I can get some fresh air now.” She paused to take a deep breath in. “I don’t even remember the last time my father said anything to me that wasn’t an order. But I’m being looked after, so it’s alright. I’m here now, at the very least.” She turned to look at Drakus with a smile. “Let’s see if I can get out of paperwork to pay you a proper visit sometime.”

Drakus slightly tensed at the mention of fathers but nodded approvingly at her offer. “I’ll have someone fetch you by wyvern, or I suppose I could come myself. ” He said with a smile.
“Solaris has become an amazing place, I really would love for you to come see it.”
What he really wanted her to see and understand was his vision for integrated magic and technology, for her to understand his plan and realise his brothers and father were all wrong.
But now was not the time for such heavy topics.

“Before the end of the year, I’ll come, okay? Oh, I’ll make sure I check the archives before I go. Plenty of juicy stuff in there to talk about.”

“What rumours have you heard as of late?”

“Oh, people have been saying that Pachel’s got a mistress on the side. Honestly, I don’t know why it’s worth talking about. Of course he does! Why, it’s just a matter of who. There’s that one general who he’s close with, but I don’t see it…”

“Is that all you have? Old news and loose ends? Unless you can give me something better my dear, I may fear you’re falling out of touch.”

Elise frowned. “Well, if you want to know why Eric Granis broke up with Hallie on Lover’s Day, I can tell you that. There’s also a very particular member of the Holy Knights who they’ve been trying to sweep under the rug as of late. Oh, what else… I heard Idella’s sister got a boyfriend.”

Now Drakus seemed more impressed, impressed yes but not surprised. This lead to a moment he had been steering towards. He reached into his coat and drew out an unmarked envelope sealed with unmarked wax and handed it over to Elise.

“Once you open it read quick and ignore the first paragraph. There are certain ‘benefits’ to having a guild or group of bards in most towns.” He smiled proudly.

Elise slipped her arm out of Drakus’s, daintily taking the envelope. She looked at it with a furrowed brow, opening it with care. “Hmm? What is this, anyway?” She quickly scanned over it, her eyes soon widening as she went through it over and over. Soon, she was done, and passed it back to Drakus. She may as well have handed him a blank piece of paper, because the ink had soon faded.

“Oh my, oh my. How interesting,” she muttered. “We used to have such things in Dalris. I’m not quite sure what happened to them.”

Drakus took the paper and folded it until it fit in the palm of his hand, when he released his fingers it was gone and replaced with ash that fluttered away in the breeze.

“Even with all the ears and eyes out there I still can’t learn why father chose Ruel.”

Drakus paused and looked to Elise, waiting.
“The late Lord Immolis was… a character, I will say,” she sighed. “However, we must accept his decision and move on. Drakus… I know how you must feel, but little Ruel is doing as fine a job as he can. You have House Solaris now. Isn’t it time to move past this petty conflict?”

“I don’t have it yet.” He reminded her. Tomorrow would be the first time he presented himself as head of a new house before all the other Lords and the queen.

“And If I’m to accept his wishes then the only options left to acquire more land and control is through conquest or marriage…”
Drakus mused playfully for a moment.
“Do you suppose the queen is looking for a new suitor?”

Elise laughed. [color=d8cfbe]“Oh, older women are more to your taste? House Dalris shall treasure this fact, Drakus. Though it’s not as if the queen does much these days. She’s a figurehead of the church, nothing more. Marrying for power - Verity Seler would be quite a good choice on that front, wouldn’t she? A few years older than you, but we’ve established that isn’t a problem.”[color] She grinned wickedly. “If only she were less bland.”

“Oh!” Drakus fake gasped, bringing a hand to his chest and wearing a shocked expression. “I’m insulted that you’d even suggest that I’d marry for anything other than love.”
Then a wicked smile slowly crawled across his face, “I just so happen to be in love with power.”

He pondered for a moment.
“Verity Seler.” he tasted the name and looked to the sky for memories and information.
“Met her brother once, still owe him for that black eye.
All I did was raise the correlation between his hair colour and that of the northern whores and he got quite upset and quite quickly.”

“But yes, I do believe she posses an appropriate favour and gate type to compliment my own gifts. For Solaris to last into the future and truly be my legacy I need to think carefully about heirs. And soon.”

“Heirs, heirs,” Elise hummed. “I’m one myself, yet now I have to think of my own. Father was lucky to have me, but I can’t go around picking up a partner with no gate whatsoever like he did. Oh, I wonder if a weak one would be alright. Truly, it is a hassle.”[/color]

She winked at Drakus. “But if you’d like me to set you up with Miss Seler, I’ll do what I can. She doesn’t have the same temper as her brother. Plenty of other women in the sea, too! Why, you could go for dinner with whoever you please. There’s the other Seler girls, though some of them are a bit too young I would say, Pri… Prina Granis, lovely girl - though Eric can be rather overbearing - then the Teglo one. Oh, Rie is simply awful to be around. Such a diva, really. You could do so much better. Croan has some ladies as well, but they’re so stuck up! They think that they’re superior to everyone else, even when it was very, very obvious that poor Rae is just wearing hand me downs. You see, the dress she had on the last time I saw her was the very same one that Katarina had worn the year before! You know, it’s a disgrace-”

Elise coughed, flushing slightly. “You understand what I mean.”

She was speaking and had his interest with every word, but emotions and thoughts tugged on his attention. He held an honest smile as he watched her gossip, it was… it was so normal. It had been so long since he had spoken with anyone like this, it felt like a taste of what could have been, conversing on small frivolities like the old days. He reminded himself it was only because she did not know of the things he had done, of what he had become. Such simple pleasantries, planning of heirs and happiness were not for his type, it was not for monsters in masks.

“I hope you get free of your fathers influence and find a good man.” Drakus interrupted with a sudden strange open honesty.
“Although just make sure he’s got more brain than looks, we both know you have it the other way. he teased with a playful smile, giving her an underhanded compliment.

“But of course this meeting is not all about pleasantries or that Croan has more children than money, there is business to discuss.”

Drakus handed her a second envelope.

“I know every house wants favour with Immolis but I can be a powerful ally too. Consider these two notes gifts in good faith of what we can offer.

The second letter was not sealed but it bore the variation of an Immolis seal on it, the Solaris emblem.
It was detailed instructions to all bard guilds of new songs to sing, stories to tell, what variations to make and what focus to put where.
Curiously it revolved around seafood.
It’s presence and appearance became a focus in plays, mention of hero’s snacking on it and good fruit-of-the-earth people eating it for health while nobles gorged on it’s delicacy.

Furthermore it was dated from eight months ago. There was a hint of proud excited confidence in his eyes. The fruition of their games so many years ago played out on the grandest scale of all. He knew of the recent and unexpected increase of demand and profit in seafood. Stonge, he was responsible for it.

“House Solaris, hmm,” Elise murmured. She glanced over the letter before putting it away - well, trying to. She didn’t have any pockets so she opted to hold onto it for the time being. “I do like seafood… why, I had some earlier. I’ll pass this along to my father, if you’d like that.”

Drakus paused and looked at her for a moment of confused disbelief. He expected her to be more elated than this. The numbers may not have been huge but it was noticeable and his guilds were still forming, besides, any advantage was an advantage.

This new tactic was not one he wanted to reveal to too many people, his power to influence public opinion and spending, now he feared that he had shared it with the wrong one. Had his friendship with her overrides reason.

“I was hoping to deal with you directly but if you are not interested, I can find another house to ally with.”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m not interested. I just… is there not anything else we could discuss?”

“Elise, I’m going to need help tomorrow. My entire future falls on that meeting. I have no one at my side. I would love nothing more than to talk to you of those rumours and the latest fashion but it will all mean nothing if…”

Drakus sighed, realising the intensity he was speaking to her with. It was pathetic. He was only happy his father was dead and could never hear of it. He broke the deep eye contact he had created and lifted his chin to the air and regained his composure.

He was of the blessed mage queens blood. Fear and insecurity held no place in such people’s heart. He was destined for greatness. He could not hold doubt or show weakness like that, not to Elise, not to anyone. He pulled his emotions back in with a deep inhale and continued speaking.

“Never mind, oh look, isn’t that the cafe over there? Oh speaking of seafood I heard that a single prawn nearly killed lady Oxsollus last month. She couldn’t breath and became overcome by a rash.”

Elise’s eyes went through a few emotions, all of them unclear, while her face maintained her bright smile. Eventually, her eyes settled to be happy too. “Oh, that woman! Yes, they had a murder investigation because they believed she had been poisoned, but eventually they concluded that she was just that much of a fool. I haven’t told you about the knight, have I? The entirety of House Croan must be as stupid as their daughters are, because they…”

Elise continued chattering, rolling off pointless gossip effortlessly. She accentuated her stories with wild hand gestures. She looked genuinely excited about it - to be talking about such useless things with her dear friend. Politics just weren’t for everyone.

Drakus used all the skills of every method actor he had ever met and did his best to summon the essence and enthusiasm of his younger self. The conversations were exciting as they were long. The two swapped stories and laughs deep into the night forcing the owner to stay open longer than usual. All was joyous but hidden deep down inside the Immolis child felt empty and hollow.

He gave her that night, he gave her the best of himself, of who he used to be. He gave her a night that he should have been using to do something productive. He gave her all he could give her, for childhood sake, he gave her his last ounce of generosity,

Leras stood and watched as Elise and Drakus walked away. She had something of a wistful expression on her face, though it was mixed with disapproval. “I never liked him. I didn’t like any of those brats from that house. But it isn’t my place to choose my lady’s friends.” She grimaced. “That’s that. Hopefully I can collect her in one piece, if at all. To the ampitheatre it is, then.”

"Do not call him a brat." Rendyl retorted, stepping up behind Eliona's right shoulder.
"He is more mature than his siblings, and it shows through his actions."

“Yeah, and I’ll bet that you’ve never met either of the other two. Ruel’s mostly lovely, but a complete idiot. Drakus is an arrogant bastard, as you know. Cedric is… I’d prefer it if my lady were to give up on him. They’re all the same if you boil it down a bit.” Leras grumbled. She gestured in the direction of the amphitheatre, taking a few steps towards it. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

Rendyl used a hand to gently guide Eliona forward to follow Leras, taking care never to touch the woman "Little Ruel was curious about my wings, and Lord Cedric looked ready to tear Lord Drakus apart."

She flicked her wingtips lightly with the memory of the confrontation making her shiver. It was rare to find someone that attempted to put Lord Drakus on the back foot, and even rarer that Drakus allowed them to continue breathing afterward.

“Oh, Ruel’s never seen one of your kind before. Probably wanted to take a good look before he votes not to give you rights. Don’t blame him. Though I’m supposed to be calling him Lord Immolis now, aren’t I?” Leras clicked her tongue. “I’ll never get used to these new names. Solaris, too. What’s that supposed to mean? Oh, I hope Elise never gets married.” She continued, though much quieter, to herself. “Well, if it’s him, she’ll still be Dalris. There’s already a house for that… two more years, isn’t it?”

Abbi listened and bit her tongue. The woman was clearly trying to start a fight. Abbi could see the tension in Rendyls arm and how she stood trying to look non-combative but hand ready to draw her sword. The third participant, Eliona treated this as a non-event. She had told Abbi, “In the art of being a Lady, one must hear others words, listen to what they say and think about why they are saying them, and if they invoke a strong reaction, act like nothing happened.” Abbi’s father would tell her, “Who cares what they say, jerks are jerks.” The problem was that Abbi wanted to like everyone, including the “jerks” and mostly wanted them to like her. She watched with awe as Eliona worked her grace taking everything going on around her. She continued to stand there wanting to defend Rendyl. A caty thought came rushing to her mind about how sad it was that servants these days seem to see themselves as Nobility, expressing their opinions about things that were above their station. The problem was in the proper order of things the guards of the Lords were effectively above her, being their masters fist. She on the other hand was the daughter of a working parents living in a different province. She was under the protection of Lord Drakus. She thought she was a “Miss” and no longer “girl”, The funny thing was that most people just called her Abbi. From the serving girls all the way to Lord Drakus, when he called anything. She did her best to defend Lord Drakus’ honor by not starting a fight even though she thought it would feel good to do so.

Rendyl shook her head slowly at Leras's comments. Of course a human guard would be more interested in politics. All Rendyl really cared about was making sure the select few individuals of House Solaris kept on breathing. However, today she had an opportunity…

"Eliona, I'll be back. Leras, may I impose upon you to take her to see the amphitheater? I don't want my presence to make others uncomfortable…"

Eliona nodded and reached out an arm with a loose hand towards Leras. She spoke with a Lords confidence and command but her words held such a delicate gentle diplomacy that she could probably tell you to go to hell and somehow you would end up looking forward to the trip.

“Perfect, we have much to discuss anyway, and the sooner we all stop squabbling over our own perceived flaws and biases of others we can truly get to the heart of things. Wouldn’t you agree? Now let us be on our way. That ‘arrogant bastard’ as you call him has given me coin enough that all shall enter the amphitheater for free tonight and I have permission to grant scholarship for two of my favoured performers. I would be honoured if you helped me pick.”

Leras took Eliona’s hand a little roughly, but not on purpose. “Right,” she said. “Yeah, sure. I don’t know much about music and the like, so don’t expect too much from me.” With unusual gentleness, she began to lead Eliona down to the amphitheatre. It made her uneasy to spend the rest of the evening away from Elise, but it was too late to go back and find her. So she resigned herself to looking after Eliona, and did what she could to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Abbi did speak before Eliona and Leras left for the amphitheatre, “Miss Eliona, there are a couple errands I need to run, if I may take your leave.”

---

After being dismissed and watching the tension between the armed women, Abbi set her mind on a miniature rebellion of her own. It was a working rebellion that would benefit Solaris in the longer run, but it did show some independence and initiative. So she took the instructions with a big dose of sugar. In her thinking she really did not think that Lord Drakus really cared where they went as long as it was away.
She looked at the maid and the guard then said, “Time to go do a little shopping!” She waited to see if Rendyl was going to come with her. But she was not going to press. She really was trying to play by the rules. But her rule book had a few coffee spills and water stains that made a couple of the pages run.
Abbi looked at them and said, [color=FF007F “First thing, clothes.”[/color] Her maid was excited thinking they were heading towards the high fashion shops that were stocked from around the kingdom waiting for the nobles and their caravans. Her maid’s enthusiasm ran high thinking that Abbi was embracing her position and was going to dress the part. As they turned away from the fine shops to the working part of town where the smelters, miners, and blacksmiths worked and lived. Her maid’s joy changed to concern. She wanted clothing that was going to be sturdy and could be used when she worked on things. Something that could resist acids and bases, take the heat, padded, and strong enough to climb on rock piles. Leather aprons, rubber and leather gloves, as well as padded leather pants and coats. Ugly clothing as her maid called it, but Abbi was worried about function and not fashion. She slid a pair of leather pants and boots on under her dress. She would have changed completely, but decorum being required, she stopped and did not put on a show.
“Next, comes the important stuff,” she said with a smile from ear-to-ear. Geological samples of stones, minerals, and ores for the university. If she could find a geologist that worked with the mines, she might’ve even been able to get a recommendation for good books to use at the university. As she went from stall to stall she examined things closely, always on the look for things of interest or tools. She broke down and bought a couple beautiful imported lace ribbons for her maid’s hair and spices for cooking.
From one of the mining caravans, she also ordered a couple barrels of saltpeter for fertilizers for some gardens she had planned in her mind. She also ordered a couple barrels sulfur to help keep the bugs down in the gardens and to dust her pigeons to keep the mites away. She also checked into getting some larger quartz crystals, they would need to be shipped to her.
When she was looking in the metal merchants stalls, an old man with dark hair that was slightly balding and combed over, called out to her. His ears with slightly round and his eyes were emerald green that were clear. His smile was genuine, though his teeth looked a little sharp. Unlike the other stalls, his stall was a large tent with walls that offered some privacy and was placed near the poorer part of the keep. She did not realize that she had just found a part of the black market.
“Come, come, My lady. Come, Honest John can get what you need and no one will beat my prices,” he called to her and opened the flap to his tent. The servants tried to keep her from entering the tent. But she did, she could not stop herself as curiosity, being one of her downfalls.
“Peppermint tea?” he offered, “Exotic Peppermint, Mentha Ipus from the Beastman’s lands, much richer flavor and smell than what grows here. If you like, I can send some with you.”
She sat down at a small table with exotic rugs on the ground; chests were open showing different items for sale. After some small talk about the weather and where she was from. A servant brought a beautiful tea set with tea cups which he washed in a bowl and dried. Tea was poured, and the steam came from the cups in the chill of the evening air. Honest John said, “I have been told you're looking for tools and metal. Yes?”
“Yes, I am,” she said and took a sip of tea. It was strong and rich. The aroma filled the space.
“Well, I am an agent mind you. I believe I can help locate some equipment from Kothlin, though it may take a few weeks for it to be delivered though, lathes and milling machines. You will need electricity, probably a couple power generators from young.. and different refined metal blanks from Balaur.” He smiled, his spies had been working and he could see he was on the right track as her cheeks flushed.
He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote in a beautiful script, everything was beautiful, the items and then an amount after each. He rolled it and placed it in a scroll tube and then sealed it with wax. “If the hopeful, new Lord, is interested in the deal, reply to me by looking for a messenger runner wearing a red and green tassel on his belt and the message will get to me,” he said.
Abbi finished her tea and set the cup down.
He turned and pulled another bag of tea from the box and handed it to. “You should get back to the keep before it gets dark,” Honest John said in a very paternal tone and showed the party to the door.
When they got back to the keep proper, Abbi’s face was flushed and she felt a little giddy. To put it mildly, she was buzzed like blue bird’s eating late fall Choke Cherries and flying into the window. Her maid got her to her room to sleep it off, but Abbi wanted to go to the ballroom and dance. As the maid was helping her change she commented, “It is amazing how that the dress had managed to stay in place without falling down. That would have been Hooorrrrriiiiffic.” She said giggling as she was placed in the bed and covered with enough quilts to keep her there. Rebecca her maid, kept saying “Yes, Abbi.” like there was nothing going on. Her guard would deliver the tube to Rendyl to give to Lord Drakus. He would whisper an update on what they had done, bought, and the condition of Abbi to Rendyl so she could pass it on. He suspected that Abbi would be having a headache in the morning would get the “you were not safe” talk with her in the morning. He figured that Rendyl would be the one delegated to that task.

Reina had said something about grabbing her bag from her room, so the two transported quickly to the third floor. As she stepped off the plate, she spat on it.

“I mean, look at those portals! I know they say that they can’t replicate them, but surely Alarick’s hiding something about teleportation. Think of the trade opportunities! From what I can tell, there isn’t a mana cost associated with transporting things further, so why don’t they move the plates and make an instantaneous teleport system? I asked the monks and even sent a letter to the Queen; those plates have been moved before. It’s all this damned tradition. It’s getting in the way of true progress. Why, if we could devote a third of the energy the South spends on wyvern racing and petty politics into research, we might not even be in this situation! But noooo, everyone has to dispute about houses this and lords that.”

Melodia simply smirked and nodded as Reina began her rant about the stupidities about the South - all of which were justified. “Maybe I should have some of my men sneak down the border and feed some of the southern pigs bacteria that’s been dug up. I’m sure it’ll kill a few thousand before the cause is found out.”

The two began to walk down the hall, turning the corner to the corridor where all of the lords’ rooms were. A loud crash accompanied the unmistakable shape of a human bursting through a door and into a room. Their face was obscured, the side that Reina and Melodia could see covered by something black, though the blond hair that followed was unmistakable. The muscles, too. For whatever reason, the man was running into his room wearing nothing but his underclothes. When the technologist lords walked past the doorway, the door was closed and its holes filled with thick layers of ice. The surrounding carpet was completely soaked.

Melodia’s words of death threats and villainous mastermind were not hollow, the girl’s eyes held a deep purpose within them. She had thought about stuff like this often, and elaborately. The scurrying wetman that had soaked the ground caught Melodia’s attention mid-thought however, causing her maw to open wide and her posture to relax - so much so that she quickly fell to her knees.

“Who — was — that?” Unphased by the tumble she had taken, Melodia snapped her sights directly to Reina with undivided attention.

“Oh, I think that was the Immolis child- Cedric, I believe. He was forsaken his title by his father, if I recall correctly.” Reina offered a hand to help Melodia up. “See? That whole Immolis succession fiasco just proves my point. All this dispute about who’s the lord and who’s the heir and making an entirely new house, it’s all so pointless! Look at the amount of energy just wasted on it.”

Melodia at this point seemed to emote a different type of unhinged, eyes were widened painfully and staring into Reina’s soul. “I’d like to waste a lot of energy on that specimen — anyway.” She cleared her throat and pressed her dainty right hand against the floor below attempting to push herself back to her feet. Futile, as she made it halfway up before her legs gave out and fell right back onto her rear. “Damned body—.” She lashed out quietly under her breath.

Reina stepped back and hoisted Melodia up by the armpits, rather like how a parent would lift a child. “Let’s go back to the great hall. It’s okay if we don’t visit the laboratory.”

“No-no-no, I wanna go to the lab with you so you can tell me what exactly you’ve been working on. If you tell me the juicy details, I’ll share my own — bet your ass my developments are better.” She huffed out like an angered child as Reina helped her back to her feet. As her words spewed out she winked her left eye at Reina, all the while simultaneously drawing out her retractable cane and extending it back to the ground. Pretty soon she’d need a wheelchair, thankfully Vati existed to push her around when that happened.

Reina didn’t look too convinced, but she nodded anyway. “Alright, if you’re sure.” They reached her room. “[color=d8cfbe]I’ll be right back- just have to grab my bag.[/b{” She went in and retrieved a large black suitcase. Melodia could see a study 10-number combination lock holding it together. “Let’s head to the lab.”

As they passed by the Immolis’s room again, they caught a glimpse of the two brothers. Their backs were turned to the door. Cedric seemed to be fully dressed now. It was hard to hear through the door, but they were muttering to each other about something. Ruel's occasional high-pitched whines were hard to miss. The view through the ice wasn't completely clear, but it looked like a lot of the room was frozen too. The work of Ruel's ice gate, no mistake, but to what end?

“What power. It breaks the laws of physics, you know that?” Reina muttered.

“Magic is dated. Technology will eventually overcome its capabilities in every way, now melding the two - that’s the real brainbuster.” Melodia quietly tuned to Reina, using her free hand to gently tap her temple as they made their advance. Though she would sneak a peek into the room, squinting her eyes to manage a glimpse of Cedric as they passed on by.

“Fancy briefcase you’ve got there. Anything that important shouldn’t be near the border, at least by my standards.” Mel shrugged, veering her eyes over to the important looking construction - take time to glance at the lock more than anything.

“It’s not as important as it looks. Most people who look at it won’t get it, anyway. Plus, the suitcase is made so that destroying the lock or the shell will destroy the materials within.” Reina heft the case. “Arthur came up with the idea.”

Melodia rolled her eyes at the mention of Arthur, nodding the words away nonetheless in understanding of Reina’s precautions. “Well if it’s important enough to be destroyed, I’d still probably keep it holed up in my dungeon. But I won’t speak further of it, after all, you bringing it here means that I get to see it!” She flashed a smile at Reina, her free hand resting beneath her chin to gesture an exaggerated expression of happiness.

But she was excited. There weren’t many minds out there as bright as Reina, the two of them were cut from the same cloth - to a degree. Similar upbringings brought the girls up to be inquisitive minds that delved into studies untouched by many. But where Melodia wouldn’t allow social acceptance to hinder her research, Reina had more resources to her disposal - which set the two on different paths in their studies.

^{[Aelious + Aster, feat. a bottle of wine]}

Aster was lying on the grass, an open space a few blocks from the market. No pesky nobles in sight, no Towers or naggy carriage drivers, just the night sky. It still brought her peace, despite seeming to twinkle less brightly here. The work of the Northern-style streetlights here, no doubt.

She idly lifted the toy wyvern overhead, her long arm making it soar and swoop through the limited sky as she whistled a tune to herself.

Soon, the tune was joined by another, lower whistle. It almost harmonized with her whistling, but was ever-so-slightly off. With a bit of a saunter and a bit of a sway, Aelious plopped down onto the grass a couple meters away from the merchant-noble, his complexion slightly flushed from the bottle of wine held between two of his fingers. Letting out a ghost of a breath, the Aureolin Heir leaned back, enjoying the night breeze and the wisping music.

It was a nostalgic one, after all, one of the popular tunes that any traveller in Croania would know.

'This is not a duet,' Aster remarked silently, still whistling. She craned her neck to see--goddess above, really? Two in one day?

Her melody took a more staccato quality, as if she was just shoving out the notes now. She made sure to finish the song, for the nobleman's sake. It seemed the polite thing to do, even if she had her eyes narrowed at him the whole time.

"Lord Aureolin," she greeted him.

"Lady Nols," he responded, with a dip of his head. "Suppose I disturbed your solitude?"

Yes. "No, no, I was just... surprised." She stowed the toy wyvern into her shoulder bag. "You, uh, just looking around?"

"Thought I'd clear my head a bit before calling it a night. And you?"

"Enjoying the start of my vacation." She turned her gaze back to the sky.

"A rare occurrence for sure," Aelious replied. He tilted his bottle of wine in the caravan leader's direction. "Like a drink?"

She shook her head. For one thing, he was a Lord of much higher repute. For another, he was listed the most eligible bachelor on the continent. By a paper owned by his family but Aster digressed.

"Surely the Tower would offer better drink," she said. "Better company too."

"Higher bred perhaps, but better? Debatable." A shrug. He uncorked the bottle, did a small toast in Aster's direction, before taking a swig. "A real shame, not being able to go into the talks drunk."

Aster couldn't suppress a guffaw. "Perhaps if you brought enough the whole table. I'm sure Lady Esme--I'm sure a good handful of them would get a kick out of it."

"Something to consider for a more relaxed meeting." Though by Aelious's own estimations, Esmeralda was more likely to spit in the wine than drink it. "Still, enough of the obligations of the nobles. Have you planned anything particularly delightful for your own break?"

"Gorging on everything I can find in the market." She seemed almost proud of it. "Maybe explore the mountain range if I got the time but who knows how long the talks'll go."

"Gonna be mountaineering, are you?" Aelious rolled his eyes up skywards, drawing up on past memories. "Talks should only take a couple of days or so, least based off the past ones. Suppose you're gonna wanna hit the markets running then?"

She gestured a relaxed hand forward. "Full speed ahead. What about you? Any holidays for a second heir?"

Aelious laughed, shaking his head. "Work never ends, but at least it's never the same."

"I like the sameness." She shrugged. "It's easy."

"To each their own. Wouldn't have remained an Heir myself, if I liked routines."

"All the prestige but only half the responsibility. You're happy in your position?"

"Feel like being the most eligible bachelor in Croania's a pretty comfortable position," Aelious grinned cheesily, "But I could be wrong. How's life on the road for you?"

Aster returned with a wry smile of her own. "It's all I need. There's no shortage of jobs, still plenty of places to go. All open and endless. People say I ought to be asking for more but... why would I, y'know?"

"Everyone has different values, yeah. The problems only start popping up when they don't recognize that fact." The Aureolin Heir leaned back against the grassy slope, cradling his head behind his back. "Suppose if things go well, you'll be one of the first to to take a step in Nolore, eh Aster?"

"Only if Seler's fleet goes up in flames," she smirked.

"No plans on pulling a Drakus and just taking part of their fleet as your own?"

"I'd have to be part of the family first. And Verity doesn't seem the type to be easily seduced."

"Mmm, and I suppose your parentage is too clear-cut for you to suddenly reveal that you're Vector's bastard daughter."

"Aye. Alas, it seems piracy is the only option."

"I'll drink to that," Aelious laughed, "so long as you don't poach my wyverns."

"Fair," Aster toasted an invisible glass, "I'll have to just lease one."

The drink stayed put but the chatter flowed freely. Like she was shooting the breeze with one of her workmen rather than an heir. It was strange, for sure. She never dropped her guard but the company was certainly appreciated.

They talked well into the night.

𝕀nterlude

---

There was something frightening about large rooms. Even more so when they were not empty, but filled with equally frightening people. On a certain day, four of such individuals were seated around a table much too big for so few. A rectangular table, intended for banquets. There was no food laid out. The real meal was each other - for this was a gathering of hawks, all waiting to feast on their companions the second they let down their guard.

“Where is Myrised?” said the one at the head of the table.

“You know she cannot come. Please, let her rest. She will need it.” The man in the middle of the table bowed his head at the empty seat opposite to him. The space of the absent ‘Myrised’.

“Very well. We shall continue without her. Let it be known that her holiness does not approve. I shall seek out her guidance for a suitable punishment.”

“You don’t need to ask her about everything,” came the response from the bottom of the table. “Just tell her to come next time. You can do that much on your own.”

“Her holiness, Sieng. She requests you show a little more respect for her, and she will grant you her blessing in return.”

“Blessing? I already have that, right? Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” Sieng leaned forward.

A loud sigh from the middle of the table. “Please, there are more important things to be doing than arguing. If we could begin.”

The one at the head of the table stood. Silk robes fell around her, the image of regality. Her head was held high. She did not dare look either of her companions in the eye. “Very well. Stand, my brothers. We have been instructed to carry out her indomitable will.”

“For her holiness, lay down your lives!” she roared. Her voice echoed around the chamber.

“Until the end of time,” the other two muttered back.

words words words words

𝕋he 𝕋alks

---

The talks were to take place on the second floor. The monks had cleared the Minor Library's space, setting up the room with a large table, multiple whiteboards, and many comfortable chairs. The first round was to run from 8 am to noon. Any points not resolved would be tabled for a later day. All the results and decisions were to be sent to the capital - to be put into effect immediately. The lords would then be free for the rest of the day to relax, make behind-the-scenes deals, and do other lordly things.

Everything was set.

The shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, the 16th of Anais, 1648, changed the course of Croanian history and set it on a new course, one that was impossible to predict.

---

sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀ
CHAPTER 3 - Nationality & Citizenship
Definitions
Individual; A self-aware being capable of intelligent thought.

Policy Change ( a ) : Delete or define 'intelligent'.

words words words words
Codes
3.1 - Any human individual born on Croanian territory (2.1.4) is considered a citizen of the State.

Policy Change ( b ) : Delete 'human'.

words words words words
CHAPTER 5 - Civil Rights
5.2 - The rights of Croanian citizens shall not be abridged on account of sex, age, or race.

Policy Change ( c ) : Append 'species'.

---

sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙ
Policy: 40% of education funding is allocated to the Northern Houses.

Policy Change ( d ) : Increase to 60%.
Amount can be negotiated as: 55, 50, 45, 40.

---

sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴄ
Policy: Funding for, and research of, the following subjects is restricted: Artificial Intelligence, Atomics, Material Science, Robotics, Space Travel.

Policy Change ( e ) : Lessen or remove restrictions on research. Robotics and material science are favoured for removal.

words words words words
Policy: The usage of magic alongside technology and the research thereof is restricted in the following areas: Artificial Intelligence, Atomics, Chemistry, Material Science, Robotics, Space Travel

Policy Change ( f ) : Lessen or remove restrictions on research.



words words words words

𝕋he ℝesults

---

𝕋he 𝔸ftermath

---

00:25:31

On the cold, polished floor of the Harrow’s Laboratory, there lay a large metal box. About a meter across on all faces, the box seemed perfectly at home amongst the scientific instruments, its reflective sides matching the utilitarian chairs and counters. The only notable aspect on its surface was a small timer, counting down towards zero.

00:22:49

The box hadn’t been in the laboratory the whole time. It had arrived sometime in the middle of the talks, while the most important figures in the country argued about past injustices, current grievances, about future plans.

00:17:13

The first day of the talks was over. The guards lingered in the chamber for a little longer as the representatives were ushered out, their expressions varied. It had been a good day for the North, some of their demands having been met. Not all, but many more than expected. There would be no war today.

00:15:37

A group of soldiers exited the tower posthaste, several stacks of paper stuffed in their courier’s bags - the votes and verdicts, to be taken to House Croan. The results of the talks would be put into effect as soon as possible. Less than a minute later, the soldiers left the keep- one group on wyvern, another on horse, another on foot. A precautionary measure.

00:09:12

The lords and ladies of Croania split off into their own little parties to discuss the results of the day. A few returned to their rooms to rest. A couple others went to the Observatory. Some went to lunch in the Grand Hall.

00:01:51

A scuffle broke out at the southern gate to the Keep.

00:00:47

“Fuck! Hurry up, we gotta leave right now!”

00:00:43

“Not yet, we can’t go yet, please-”

00:00:39

“Go! Go, go, go, or you’re dead!”

00:00:31

Two hooded figures pushed past the guards outside and sent them sprawling. One held tightly onto the other’s wrist as they pulled them along in a sprint, away from the tower. They dashed away from the gates, clearing a remarkable distance in a few seconds. Nobody gave pursuit.

00:00:04

00:00:03

00:00:02

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The bomb exploded.

A blazing light flooded the halls, consuming everything it touched. It swept outward from the second floor, over the grey stone of the tower walls, over the shingled roofs of the Keep’s houses, over the people and animals and goods of the market. The light spread until it reached the outer bounds of the stone walls guarding the keep, stopping just outside the steel gates.

The entire keep was engulfed in a sphere. For everyone inside, however, the world went dark - anyone the light touched fell unconscious. There was no escape. The light passed through walls, armor, even people’s eyelids themselves. It was as if the sensation of brightness itself was transmitted directly into their brains.

From the outside, there was no way to see what was happening to the keep. The light reached the outermost point of the keep, preventing anyone from looking within. Then, the sphere collapsed into itself, compressing into a tiny dark point into the center before releasing a shockwave that leveled the trees nearby.

The keep was gone.

---

Or at least, that’s what it looked like for those outside of the keep.

If anyone within the keep had been conscious, they would have felt a curious sensation of compression into a single point - almost like being boxed into oneself, before being unfolded again.


A few townspeople awoke, but they were few and far between. The vast majority lay still on the ground, unmoving. Those that did move witnessed a terrible, frightening sight.

The keep appeared to be encased in a transparent bubble. Outside of it, a grey, swirling mass of something strained and pushed at the bubble. The matter swirled in a chaotic, mesmerizing sort of way that seemed to form patterns that the brain held onto for a moment then let slip. It seemed, powerful. However, for now, the barrier held.

There was a different sort of chaos in the keep below. Harrow’s Tower was in absolute disarray. Each of the individual floors, rooms, and chambers had been rotated, relocated, and mashed together, creating a demented stone spike that jutted towards the upper bounds of the bubble. By the Northern concept of “gravity,” the tower should not have remained standing in its current state, and yet it remained as solid and unmoving as before the blast.

The town was no different. Buildings were merged together, crushed together, their rooms intersecting at odd angles and junctions - a few were even suspended in the sky, leaving their inhabitants shrieking and panicked. Still, they were all intact.


In the streets, in their homes, the people of the keep began to fall to the ground once more. The air was so rich in mana that those with low favor were beginning to feel the effects of mana sickness to extreme levels. Most who fell would never rise again.

Victor Moltke and Abigail Harlow

Location: Harrow's Keep Townstead, The Spire Inn

---

---

"I'm sure you're down here on call, sir, in case lord Balaur needs an expert opinion on the policies…?" Abigail offered up hopefully.

The Spire Inn was a large, luxurious manor house converted into an upscale tavern for wealthy merchants - or petty nobles ousted from world changing negotiations. Sir Victor Moltke had taken one of the larger suites to conduct his research and keep up with the ceaseless administration of maintaining a small portion of Lord Balaur's footsoldiers from afar, and Abigail got the much smaller room opposite. They were in the main suite, and the squire was watching the esteemed Black Knight pace up and down the room.

”Your measly attempts to comfort me in this dismal situation are meaningless. I mean can you believe this?! Hrm?! -Me-! Stuck down here, doing what? Supposed to fondle myself here am I?!” he continued pacing with creeping annoyance.

"I-..I mean, if you want, sir, but I'd quite like to be excused if you do," Abigail stammered.

Victor shot her a glare before clasping his hands behind his back once more and returning to his pacing. ”Make yourself useful and at least go get me the day's news, will you?” he wafted a hand at her dismissively. Abigail nodded, bowed, and left the room.

As she left, she cursed every little thing she could think of. Keeping up with Sir Moltke was in and of itself a challenge; she had heard rumours that people tended to act like their gates, and a fire gate most certainly suited him. Abigail didn't know why she had a fire gate then, much less a force gate. She could think of a good few things to say to her mentor but the thought of so much as giving a firm 'no' made Abigail quake in her boots. Making her way out of the lobby, she started the long trek up to the tower, hoping to receive word from any of the guards posted out front.

But first, Abigail made a quick detour to the stables. She was going to check on her pony, Munchkin. In true Balauran fashion, the rugged little beast had been gnawing on his lead again and stamping his hoof. "Munchie no! I told you not to do that, you'll split it again," she cried out, calming down her tiny yet ferocious steed. "I'll take you out on a ride once I'm back, okay?" she promised him, petting his nose until only some of the whites of his eyes were still visible. It was as calm as she was going to get him. With reluctance, and a nervous pit in her stomach, she departed from the stables and made her way to the tower.

Abigail made it to the middle of the street before a bright light emanated from above. She looked up, tried to run, and was engulfed in whiteness. The world rumbled and was rent underneath her feet - everything crumpled in on itself and was gone in an instant. She didn't even have time to panic.

She awoke to a gentle stamping and nibbling.

Abigail rolled over and threw up first, then pushed Munchkin away from the pool of vomit that he was trying to slurp up. Then she took a good look and saw that the pony had pulled the rope clean from the stall and made it to her side. She dry heaved a little, shaking from head to foot, confused and disoriented. Munchkin headbutted her once or twice to help the girl to her feet, whereupon she hastily slung herself over her steed's back, and dug her heels into his ribcage.

The world was broken. That was the best way Abigail could describe it. There were people laying in the streets...and if Abigail hadn't steered away from them her frantic pony would have trampled the dead and unconscious alike. She made it to the inn again and found a bit of the wall sticking out in a perfect loop, decided not to question anything until she had her bearings (and her stomach settled), lashed the little horse to the impossible outcropping and made her way inside.

The inn was broken too. The kitchen had materialised halfway into the lobby. There were knives and shattered glass everywhere, the innkeeper was-...there was a lot of blood because he-...Abigail was sick again and tried not to sob. She climbed the steps on all fours since they had stretched out across the foyer. People were in the rooms. Some were dead, and a few stared at her without really seeing her. luckily, the corridors were so wide, and the rooms so big, that the destruction was minimal and she could somewhat navigate back to Victor's chamber.

"Oh thank the Goddess," Abigail exhaled, seeing that the damage only extended to one corner of the room, where another room cut into it at a diagonal angle. She stumbled over to the prone figure lying on the ground and shook his shoulder. "Victor, Victor please get up, everything's broken!"

”Mhrm-... hyngrh. It’s -lord-.” he murmured in his delirious and devastated state. His brain slowly and steadily rumbling back alive. ”What happened, are you well? Why has the room turned upside down?” he continued stirring awake but couldn't get the thumping out of his head.

"That’s not our room you’re looking at, Sir," Abigail explained, but the absurdity of the situation was starting to get at her and she was starting to panic. Realising that Sir Moltke was in imminent danger of choking on his own vomit, she started to put him in the recovery position that she had been taught. "I-..I, I’m not well. Not well at all, Sir, " she stammered, her heart started to hammer at her ribcage. ”The world just broke, and there’s things-...embedded in other things, and, and fuck, is it just me or is it getting hard to breathe?” The second wave hit, and a blast of mana filled the air. Abigail didn’t know what it was but it dimmed the corners of her vision and made her head pound. She fell to his side, shutting her eyes and focusing on her breathing.

Victor spent another good minute reeling from the reality of the situation. He couldn’t get up, but grabbed Abigail by her collar and pulled her closer to grab her full attention. “Listen closely to me, girl. Hrm. Rally the men, set up a perimeter where the world hasn’t turned upside down and start aiding the civilians out. I simply need to… gather and sit.” he rattled at her collar, trying to make sure she had received his orders.

”D-don’t I get to gather and sit too, sir?” Abigail asked, still pale and trembling.

“What, you think I’ll grab a tavern wench to carry out my orders? Move!” he had by now at least managed to clamber onto his hands and knees, heaving still.

Abigail took that to be both a command and a warning, and with the greatest reluctance she stumbled back up to her feet and left Sir Moltke to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor on the spot where she once lay. She ducked and wove down the corridor, pointedly ignored the sparkling, bloodsoaked mess in the foyer and braved the incomprehensible world outdoors. Luckily, she didn’t have to do it alone; Munchkin was looming nearby and remaining stalwartly angry at everything that had the displeasure of getting somewhat near him.

Abigail took a good long look at what she had to deal with. There were bodies in the streets. Parts of the street weren’t even streets anymore. Houses were floating in the air. How many people were trapped under rubble? How many floating in the sky? And, worse still, how many locked underground, where nobody can hear them cry for help? She took another moment to breathe and focused on her appearance. Not only was she Sir Moltke’s spokesperson now, she was also dressed in House Balaur regalia. Until they knew what happened in the tower and the status of the heir, she may very well be the face of the entire country in a moment of crisis.

Abigail squeaked and tried not to be sick again. Munchkin gave her an affectionate snuffle to bolster her spirits.

She brushed off the dirt and fixed her hair to the best of her abilities and lead her pony to what fractured remains of the stable were left. It had spectacularly spasmed and deposited its rooftop some partial distance into the adjacent tavern. Several shingles lay broken on the cobbles around it. The horses were going mad, with half of them already missing. To prevent further catastrophe, Abigail did what she did best and went around subduing the frantic animals before they broke out and trampled men in the streets. Afterwards she hastily swapped Munchkin’s tattered lead for his Balaur blanket and decorative official riding tack. As the formidable Lady Shieldbreaker once put it, first impressions are everything. In this case, the squire was quite intent on looking like she had her shit together.

Rally the men. Set up a perimeter. There was no place left untouched by this nonsensical destruction but Abigail could surmise the place of least damage. She grabbed Munchkin by the bridle and stared down those soulless eyes. ”Listen up Munch, you are to jump or avoid the bodies. You understand? Do as I say, or so help me I’ll-...I’ll turn you into a tasty meal for the wounded!” It wasn’t exactly the content of her orders but the tone that managed to get some flicker of understanding from the tiny beast. He knew she meant business and that was all that mattered. She lifted herself effortlessly onto the back of her pony and, though she desperately wanted to rear and charge down the streets, she instead carefully trotted up the path towards the Artisan Market, making deliberate effort to avoid the people laying in the road whilst calling out ”Make way! Move everyone to the edges of the street!" in what she hoped was a commanding voice.

Once the tangled swathes of buildings opened up into the clearer marketplace, Abigail wasted no time trying to find the largest group of guards she could and approach them. It was decidedly easier on horseback; people tended to move for you when you were riding an agitated beast capable of kicking ones ribcage in. ”I’m here on behalf of House Balaur to offer assistance,” she explained solemnly. ”I believe we should clear as much space in the markets as possible to bring in the wounded. How many hands can you spare to help me?” A straight back and a cool gaze was all she could offer up as signs of her authority. The decorative riding gear and elaborate armour no doubt helped as well but Abigail was banking on the disorientation of the guardsmen to take command, even if only to establish a safe place to bring in anyone else who narrowly avoided the innkeeper’s fate.

Aelious woke up, chest heaving.

Something still burned in the back of his vision, and his entire body thrummed with an unpleasant, foreign energy. His heart pounded out of control, his entrails felt like they were scrambling in all directions. Nausea? No, it wasn’t even as bad as a hangover. Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground, only to sway to the side, feet not meeting the stained carpets in the right fashion. The whole Grand Hall was tilted to the side, and the entirety of the fine buffet was splattered upon the prohibitively expensive carpets they had rolled out for the noble reception. The Aureolin Heir grimaced, clutching his skull. All he could remember was a flash and then…

Stonge, had Harrow’s Tower been bombed?

No one was missing limbs, and all he felt was a steadily intensifying buzz in his mana reserves, the atmosphere itself building up around him. Althein had collapsed to one side, a cake smeared against his face, and Ruel, the one he had been chatting with, was half-submerged in the champagne tower that had fallen. Scrambling down the slope, Aelious crouched beside his half-brother and shook him awake, a gust of wind magic blowing shards of glass away from Ruel as well. “C’mon Lord,” he said, whole body jittery with anxiety and anticipation, “Get up and work!”

“Magnolia, darling, be a bit mo-”

Aelious narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have time for this half-asleep drivel. “Asleine’s pregnant.”

“By the stonging tomes!” Althein immediately sat up, almost headbutting Aelious in the process. “What the hell do you mean, brother? Asleine is what?! I mean, Asleine is with who?”

“No, that’s a lie, but this is way worse. We got bombed. Don’t know how, and I don’t know why. Going to go find out what I can. Wake the others up.” Already, Aelious was standing up, flicking droplets of wine from his cloak.

Althein cast one glance over at Ruel, unconscious despite the shallow wounds on his boyish frame, then towards the others as well. Servants, Monks, Heirs, and Lords, all brought low by an all-encompassing light. He felt the thrumming of his own mana as well, and tendrils of winter wind whisked through the room, the bitter cold shocking others awake. With one deep breath, the young Lord Aureolin was back, wiping frosting off the side of his face and standing up onto his two feet. “Well, this certainly wasn’t the drama I was expecting,” he remarked, kicking his cane up in his hand.

“Yeah, but it’ll make for a great story if we survive it.”

The two shared a grin, and then Aelious was off, kicking open a window before leaping down the side of the Grand Hall. With another burst of hot wind, he landed gently, mismatched eyes scanning the area all around. The entirety of the keep was distorted, architecture forced into impossible angles by some magic unbeknownst to them all. All around the populated streets, people laid upon the ground, some spewing vomit unconsciously, others collapsed under chaotically reformed buildings. Drawing out a whistle, Aelious blew into it, sending an inaudible signal to the wyvern pit on the very edge of the keep. If Harrow’s Keep had been populated with a panicked populace, the signal would have been lost in the white noise, but in this silence…

Powerful wingbeats broke the silence, a silver wyvern shooting through the oppressive sky. Leaping up to meet him, Aelious snatched onto the outstretched talons of Freecloud as the beast swooped by. He scrambled up onto his beloved steed’s back, and from there, the two shot up towards the very peak of the bubble.

It was definitely a barrier, some construct working to push something out. But the bomb itself had burst from inside the tower. As Freecloud hovered in the air, Aelious took a deep breath and tentatively touched the barrier. It bent, but that was all. Pliable, but not easily broken, and he wasn’t certain if he wanted to try either. He narrowed his eyes too, trying to force his own magic outside the barrier, to generate a gate beyond that gossamer boundary, but nothing happened. Landlines then?

Nudging his wyvern into a dive for the Aureolin Communications Outpost, Aelious practically hopped off his steed before they even landed, the urgency of the situation causing him to blast his way into the building with magical force. He landed in a roll, hopped onto his feet, and instantly was assailed by a putrid sight.

More than half the people inside, employees that he had chatted with, drank with, worked with, were dead. Some had been crushed underneath heavy machinery. Others had bled internally. Still more choked upon their own vomit. House Aureolin prided itself in hiring low magic individuals and giving them the training to do work beyond simple labour and agriculture, and for all that, this was the result. It was clear now, what the buzzing sensation in his skin had been: artificially induced mana sickness, fatal towards Southern commoners and Northern individuals without well-developed magical lineages.

The few that had survived the reap were in bad shape too, splotchy bruises blooming underneath their pale skin, their lips flecked with spittle and bile. They stared at Aelious and he stared back, expression twisting into a mixture of regret and anger. But such expressions never lasted long on him, and soon, a reassuring smile emerged. “It’s fine,” he said, confidence brimming, “the worst of it is over. Listen, I need you all the act immediately, understand? Expel as much magic as you can in a safe manner, while waking up anyone who can be woken up, and have them do the same. Go on wyverns after, and alert the rest of the town, informing them of all this.”

They stared still, and for a moment, Aelious wished he had some of the ice that flowed in his half-brother’s veins. In lieu of that, though, he looked at them all in the eye, voice steady and clear. “Repeat after me. Expel mana safely. Wake everyone up. Instruct them to do the same.”

“Expel mana safely. Wake everyone up. Instruct them to do the same.”
“Again.”

“Expel mana safely, wake everyone up, instruct them to do the same.”
“Again!”

“Expel mana safely! Wake everyone up! Instruct them to do the same!”

“Again!”

“Expelmanasafely! Wakeeveryoneup! Instructthemtodothesame!”

“Good! Now get to work; we’ve got lives to save and people to inform!”

Aelious turned on that note, a hot wind scouring the distorted outpost of its vile stench. Outside, Freecloud awaited him, and he hopped on once more. For a moment, he wondered what Aster saw, from all the way up on the mountains.

And then, he was airborne once more, flying low as he allowed his wind magic to carry his voice far, hoping to rouse as many townsfolk as possible.

Drakus meandered behind most others after the talks. He had brought much paperwork and taken many notes. What ever changes came from today he wanted to be prepared to make the most of them, to be sure Solaris could capitalise on it.

As he came to the teleportation device he mused upon it. Something had been bugging him about the relic, more than just the fact he couldn’t have one.


16th day of Anais


“Ughh”

Drakus awoke suddenly with a sharp groan, disoriented and confused he shot up to his feet as he rapidly blinked away the blinding effects of a bright light still staining his vision. Unbalanced he stumbled for a bit before finding purchase on the nearby wall.

What happened? Where was he?

As the room slowly came into focus, a corridor maybe two meters wide, Drakus realised it was not one he was familiar with. He began to process the odd site when his memory came back and he recalled the last word he had said while standing on the teleportation stone. His own voice echoed in his head.

‘Basement.’

Despite what had just happened or was still happening, Drakus felt... Great! Heat rose from his body as he burned off excess mana and the room was already starting to warm. He rode the exhilarating feeling that came with it. It just didn’t seem to end. With a clear mind and proper thought, still he didn’t feel balanced, and soon he understood why.

It was not him but the room, the long corridor before him lay on an odd slight incline. It seemed a bizarre design and he couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind it. But that was not all that was out of place. The more he looked upon it the more surreal the room became. Almost dream like. He began to pace up the stone corridor, the soft rug beneath his feet vanishing halfway into the floor. Part of the wall ran parallel to the incline while another part ran at what Drakus believed to be level. The shape and angle of the stone bricks were not consistent either, some shot out with jagged edges reaching for him menacingly.

Iron doors that once ran down the corridor now no longer fit their frames. The first door he passed was no longer a door at all but an oblong hole in the stone, the bottom of the used-to-be doorframe ran through the middle of it while the iron door itself jutted out of the floor in the middle of the room like an iron tombstone.

Worse than the doors or the floor was the teleportation pad he walked away from. Now no longer runes and sigils painted onto a solid surface it was instead an empty black void calling to him. An endless hole of darkness to and from nowhere, a mesmerising powerful vortex both impressive and equally terrifying.

Cautiously Drakus threw a stone into its swirling deep depths but with no sight or sound from it he could only imagine what happened after the darkness consumed it. One thing was for sure, Drakus was not stepping into it. He watched it for a little longer, entranced by the abomination before him, it seemed to suck the very thoughts from his mind.
Shaking free from its grasp he moved on, still ever weary and curious of those pads. Hopefully they were not ruined forever.

---

While some of the doors were in disarray or non existent others still managed to hold in place just enough to bar the lords entrance into what ever lay behind them.
Those that barred his path quickly became pools of molten iron, the constant flow of mana quickly replenishing his reserves.

So far the contents of the rooms were consistent with what one might expect to find in a basement. Cleaning equipment and tools. Old sheets and spare quilts. After having to climb to enter one such rooms Drakus’s efforts were rewarded with an array of good foods, albeit half of them lay scattered across the floor. He helped himself as he searched the room, sampling the wares as he took some of the well stored salted meats and a satchel of vegetables.

A greater find than that was what must be the guards supply room. It was filled with enough weapons to arm a battalion of men to the teeth they seem to be standard issue sabers, crossbows, and sets of armor.

The last door at the end of the corridor was still perfectly in place, even the sign hanging from it was unaffected. It read.



He could have opened it normally but with the abundance of mana in the air there was little reason not to do things the fun way. Armed with a loaded crossbow and a small shield, Drakus heated the door to melting point before sending it exploding in and then stepping easily through the hole.

As he enters the residencies, a grim sight confronts him.
Beyond the entry hallway, in a barebone stone gemlit room,
three monks lie lifelessly draped over a wooden table and chairs, all dead. Having either drowned in their own vomit or been overloaded with mana. He checked the bodies but there was nothing he could do.

Beside the dead monks there were multiple doors. Through the contorted doors Drakus could see what must have been the communal sleeping quarters, not that they could be used for that any more.

A soft muttering could be heard nearby, it held a familiar chorus to it. A prayer to Anais. It came from one of the distorted quarters. Drakus, following the sound, quickly made his way to investigate. There on the floor was a monk leaning against the wall. He was maybe thirty five years of age. His dark hair that hung over his face and lack of a pin mark him as one of the newer additions to the Brotherhood.
He rocked ever so slightly as he recited the prayer again and again, seemingly unaware of Drakus’s growing presence. Drakus had seen this behaviour before, in men overwhelmed in combat by loss or injury. He knelt besides the man and joined him in preyer.

When they came to an appropriate ending Drakus interjected with his most calming voice.
“Monk, can you tell me what is going on?”

"I... I don't know... Colt and Ren were just discussing, and I... I just felt a tremor..."
"And then Dev came in and..."
"I woke up... and they were all..."

The monk muttered never raising his head. Drakus grabs the man by the chin and lifts his face forcing eye contact.
“Yes they are dead now, may they find Anais. We on the other hand are not, now I believe you survived to help me, so pull yourself together and let’s find a way out of here. Your duty is not done yet.”

Drakus spoke with such confidence his words were a matter-of-fact and he sought to give the monk purpose and importance.

“Now what do you know of these teleporters? Is this one still safe?” He asks leading the man back to the only entrance and exit he had soon to this place.
The monk slowly got up and followed Drakus.

"I... I've never seen them like this before."

He again muttered, staring down into the deep portal.

“Well what do you know of them!?”

"Not much."
"Just how to operate them."

The monk was appearing a little less shaken, but he still refused to meet Drakus's eyes by his own will.
Drakus was growing frustrated and impatient by the monks slow recovery and lack of useful help.
He let an eerie silence fill the room as he stood still staring at the top of the man’s head waiting for his gaze.

“...”

“...”

“...”

Drakus finally spoke, placing a hand on the broken mans shoulder.

“Good sir, servant of Anais. What is your name?”

“Je, J Jerome.” He softly stuttered under his breath, still never looking up.

Drakus looked down at the poor man, 10 years his better but quivering like a useless weak fool.

“There there.” He said leaning in close. Then in a short sharp whisper he spoke directly into his ear.

_{“ Jerome, if it’s safe, come back and get me ok, now go with Anais.”}

With that he pushed the monk into the broken teleportation device.
Now, now the monk looked Drakus dead in the eyes. His own were wide and his face pale, the look of betrayal told all as he disappeared into the darkness.

ASTER NOLS - Jin Ranges

---

Aster had risen at seven, something of a luxury in her line of work. Breakfast was purchased from the market, along with a handful of snacks for her and Keater. She'd taken the heir's information into account after all, and rescheduled her mountain expedition forward a day. A two night trip with all her equipment and Keater in tow, just short enough to avoid Esmerelda's ire.

(What could she say? Aster liked to live on the edge.)

The lodge, originally a wartime outpost or homestead or something of that sort, was a mere half-hour's canter up Mount Hirsen. It was a must-see checkpoint for all aspiring mountaineers, thanks to the lookout it boasted over the town of Harrow's Keep. Once they were done, they were encouraged to grab a drink or hot meal inside.

Unfortunately for Aster, it was a recommendation many people acted upon, including herself, for now she was stuck listening to these asshats beside her spreading completely inaccurate anecdotes about Seleran crawfish.

"Three on the same leg? Bullshit. There's plenty of weird gunk in the water but octo-yabbies are too far."

"I swear. On Anais' name," the group's leader smirked. It was promise with the sturdiness of a toothpick. A solemn hand thumped at his chest. "If it isn't everything I said, may lightning strike me d--"

Her vision flashed black and white. Shadows scorched themselves across the room, across the diners' faces, as if the sun itself had dropped right outside the lodge's windows. But it was only for a second.

"--ead?"

Thunder. Impact. The mountain seemed to lurch and its inhabitants swayed haplessly with its motion. Glassware crashed by the kitchen. A waiter stumbled over his feet, splattering braised meat from his tray. The table jerked towards Aster and with one effective strike, winded her with its round edge. She wheezed.

Chaos. Then silence.

"Stongein'..." she hissed. There was spilt beer inching its way down her pants. Everyone else was in similar states of disarray, helping each other to their feet.

Silence, then muttering, then shouting from behind the door. Alarm.

She shoved outside with the rest of them.

She saw destruction.

There was a hole. There was nothing instead of something. Harrow's Keep was a crater, a polished spot in the dirt where there should have been life.

Everything was still. Beside her, someone wailed. Aster said nothing. Took a step back.

What was one to do when confronted with the impossible? What words to say, what actions were there to take? She exhaled. She said nothing but the mathematician within her was riled. Measurements and disjointed statistics rattled off at the back of her head. Demographics, lists. Names. Faces.

Conversations.

Aster's breathing became strained. Where'd they all go?

A blankness overcame her, emptiness she knew to not perceive as 'calm' but merely 'coping'. The numbers drained away and the only thing she was left with was the need, the mission, to get down there.

"Keater," she said hoarsely. Another step back. "Keater, baby, we gotta go!" She practically threw herself towards the hitching rail. Muscle memory guided her hands over the reins. "C'mon!"

An urgent bray and the beast was off, down the mountain path to where the southern gate should have been. Others had seen the crater first, left with haste, but Aster would overtake them. Keater was one of the finest steeds on the continent, the pinnacle of a breed only the likes of nobility could afford. He would carry her down with a speed and safety that would rival his airborne counterparts.

Other details would come to mind as she descended. The crater that was a section of a perfect sphere. The lack of man made debris. Not an explosion, not what she initially believed.

Not destruction. Deletion.

She'd try to process the logistics to distract from the sheer loss she was rushing towards, the devastation that would follow. She'd feel dread plunge deeper into her heart every time Keater hit the ground and she'd get there first because she knew more than anyone what was at stake.

She knew that if all those nobles were truly gone then Croania might as well have disappeared with them.

Rhy̢thmia L̛ap̢şe҉u͘s

Outside the Minor Library, during The Talks

---

"I'm sorry, but only one of you may be allowed in."

The twins had expected that, but it was still disappointing to hear. As Melodia entered the make-shift conference room, Rhythmia sat herself down as close as possible to the entrance and stared down most of the house representatives with cold crimson eyes. There were many among the Southern reps that felt her glare, but the Lords of House Kothlin and Young felt it too, with a particular chill. Rhythmia knew about their contingency plan - and they knew that she knew. The Lapseus twins hardly kept even the smallest secrets from one another, it was absurd to think that Melodia wouldn't disclose the information to her sister. Last night Rhythmia returned to their shared room hoping to surprise her sister with something nice and useful - and instead was shocked herself to learn of the other Tech Lords' developments.

Well, she'd be lying if she said she didn't want a look at those tin canisters... but that was beside the point.

For now, Rhythmia planted herself outside the minor library, not particularly interested in the arguments but in the results, waiting to hear or sense if anything was going in a dangerous direction. Every now and then she'd turn her dark stare on anyone that attempted to get close, and continued waiting.

Melodia & Rhythmia

Former Residency Hall

---

The political talks between the North & South had always been a draining experience. You entered a room with a bunch of bureaucratic noble men and women, listened to them monologue on self-importance, and then raised your hand when you agreed with something. The queen hadn’t even been there, so honestly this whole thing could have been done via couriers and not in person… but Melodia guessed that formalities were more so the reasoning for it — though she really hoped there wouldn’t be such an event again next year.

As the discussion concluded Melodia gripped her metallic cane and slowly made her way to the exit along with others who had wanted to get the hell out of there. She avoided conversation, contact in any form really, and made a conscious effort to keep her crimson sights aimed directly at the door until she reached it.

The door was pressed open by Melodia’s small hand, and as she slipped out from the council room her eyes immediately locked on to a familiar face waiting outside.

“Rhy~ it was such a long day. I’m so tired, can we go to our room?” Mel’s eyes widened and glossed over with superficial tears. Childish whining over a productive day, she really was the worst.

Her sister wasn’t moved by her crocodile tears in the slightest, but Rhythmia had been planning to take them both back to the residencies either way. She knew this kind of thing would be tiring for anyone, but especially the Lapesean Lady. They were both getting on in years, but Mel had always been the more fragile of the two.

“Come on,” Rhythmia nodded, offering her arm should her sister need it. As the rest of the house representatives funneled out of the room, she spared some of them an icy glare, but no words. Never any words, it seemed.

The twins were first to leave the small space outside of the library being used as a conference room. The few people they passed were servants and Brothers, who steered well clear of them. Soon enough they were back inside the bedroom they’d been assigned.

Melodia quickly unlatched from Rhythmia’s arm and flung herself upon the bed face first. Bellowing a loud sigh into the silken tapestries that covered the mattress her body would go limp, small legs dangled off the side. Though her body would eventually relax and her head would finally peel itself from the sheets and look back to Rhythmia.

“Well the good news is, I don’t think we’ll be going to war. The southern pigs are strangely taking up some progressive policies, though I hate that Arthur is a racist fuck— but that’s a conversation for another day. Like, we voted on higher education budgets up in the North, rights for the beastmen, I think I turned my brain off after that one— but I’m pretty sure it was mostly positive stuff.” Melodia’s words trailed on as she looked to Rhythmia in anticipation for her response.

The short-haired sister released a bit of tension she didn’t know she was holding, her shoulders relaxing minutely. No war, then. For now. That was good. After that bit of good news Rhythmia let her head drop and nod again as Melodia continued.

“Surprising,” she said, wondering why of all times the Southerners decided to lean in favor of the North. She thought back to Reason’s words from last night, a sour taste filling her mouth as she recalled the scene as she left the garden. Still, were the talks really going to be a success for the Technologists, all things considered?

She continued, mildly talkative though only ever in the presence of her trusted family, “Even the beastmen... really? It was a good day, then.”

“Yeah, Arthur had some resistance towards it. But I would say it’s a win — in the short term it’ll probably cause some problems. But then again, I’ll be happy to start getting official identification into our beastmen population’s hands. Actually, when we get back to the estate could you have your boyfriend send out some of the Impsus to begin enforcing that immediately?” Melodia’s voice remained at a careful volume, controlled and stern. She was met with a blank stare from her sister across from her. Then, a sudden spark of realization in Rhythmia’s matching red eyes.

“Okay,” she said with a slight smile. Melodia was still in a mood to tease, it seemed. Rhythmia could easily guess who she was referring to, and though Huston and that police force didn’t quite see eye-to-eye, he’d be professional about it. “You never let things go, Mel.” Rhythmia’s voice edged on playful. Bolstered by the welcome changes that were soon to come to Lapseus, Rhythmia was beginning to find herself in a much better mood than earlier.

“Huston is good at being stern and commanding, that’s why he has the amount of responsibility that he does.” Melodia chimed back, winking her right eye shut in a playful manner with a cant of her head before responding to Rhy’s words. “Of course I don’t. It’s in our blood to hold grudges. Both our family and our people have lost so much. So I will hold everything till the grave— plus you and Hunkston have been close for years!” Melodia’s time changed from serious to whimsical as her words trailed on. Though the weight in the long-haired sister’s words were always warranted, Rhythmia was around for the dark ages of the family as well. It was here that the sisters differed, regarding the history of Lapseus. Melodia was strong of mind and learned from the mistakes of their family, turning them around with sheer tenacity betraying her weak body. Rhythmia, the reverse: used her physical strength to keep safe the things close to her and tried to forget those dark times as much as possible. Still, Rhythmia couldn’t help but agree.

“He’s close with you, too,” she pointed out to the other Lapsean, though they both knew that the man had a different kind of relationship with Melodia. Rhythmia leaned back slightly, propping her face on one hand and changed the subject back to the result of the voting. “He’ll... be happy, though. Everyone will...”

She paused briefly, and though her expression was nearly as blank as usual, to her twin it was obvious she was imagining the look of relief and surprise on the faces of their staff and the citizens when they learned of the changes that would be taking place. Changes for the better.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Melodia then let out a silent and rather animated yawn, stretching her hands out high above her head and humming out hot air.

“Well, we’ll talk about it more when I wake up. Let Vati know the good news when you see him - he’s probably fairly anxious about the news as well. And remember not to tell him about yesterday.” Melodia then gripped at the bed lightly and pulled herself into a more comfortable sleeping position, her wispy white hair covering her face as her head found the soft white pillow. “Wake me up if you need me, love you.” Melodia quietly muttered out as she was carried slowly into dreamland.

“Yeah. Love you,” her sister repeated, standing quietly to dim the room’s lights. Eventually, the sound of Melodia’s even breathing told Rhythmia that she’d fallen asleep. The meeting was adjourned for today, the rest of the afternoon and evening were for the representatives to spend however they chose, including a well needed nap. Sometime later, the dark haired bodyguard returned to the room and Rhythmia stepped outside briefly to talk with him about what had happened. All good news.

When she stepped back in, something that could easily be considered “bad news” happened - and it happened quickly.

A muffled sound like an explosion below them made its way to Rhythmia’s ears. Instantly, her mind and body sharpened to attention. Her head wasn’t diluted with thoughts like what’s going on? Was that a bomb or a stupid mage? Is this an attack? Who attacked? - she had a singular goal at that moment: protect her sister. Even if it turned out to be a harmless sound, Rhythmia had learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than sorry. Of course, it wasn’t exactly a harmless sound.

Harsh light flooded her vision, and Rhythmia instinctively rushed to cover the prone body of her sister from any danger, whether it be intruders or falling debris. Unexpectedly, she suddenly lost consciousness.

...

“Rh— “

“Rhy..”

“Wake up!” Melodia cried out as she shook her sister, her eyes welled up with moisture and gripped at Rhythmia’s clothing. It was only for a moment, but the blackout disoriented Rhythmia all the same. When she opened her eyes again, her natural eye blazing as bright as her artificial one, the first thing she did was make sure Melodia was okay.

“Awake,” Rhythmia stated quickly and clearly, taking her sister’s hand, “Okay. Are you...?”

The next thing Rhythmia did was lean over and vomit. She was full of confusion, and the grip she had on Melodia tightened. I’m sick? she briefly wondered. She was completely ignorant of the symptoms of mana sickness, having never experienced it before. However, after the initial rush of energy, the sickness seemed to die down quickly. She looked back at Melodia, wiping her mouth with her free sleeve. The Lapsean’s crimson eyes flickered all over her sister before she tried speaking again.

“Are you okay, Mel?”

Melodia frowned as she gripped her sister tighter, her digits pressing against her sister stronger than usual. “I’m a bit shaken, but I feel swell— better than usual actually. That burst of light was magical in nature, but the cause of it, that’s what concerns me.” Her words held an energy to them that was nonexistent before the flash, the surge of power revitalized Melodia to a fascinating degree. Besides the physical effects the light had on the sisters, there were other things that became immediately apparent - the room was trashed, as if flipped over, furniture overturned and broken apart.

Vati swiftly swung the door open permitting himself entry without a second thought. “M’ladies - are you okay?” He looked winded and scraped up, having been in the hall when whatever happened, well, happened. Perhaps the flash had some effects on him as well, or the tumbling of the hall had thrown him around.

“Vati - “ Rhythmia summoned the man to him with a jerk of her head, and he was at the sisters’ sides in an instant helping to steady them both, though as she claimed Melodia didn’t seem to need it. The short-haired sister considered Melodia’s words, and quickly came to the conclusion that whatever had happened could not have been an accident.

“Evacuate,” Rhythmia suggested sharply - and where normally her tone would make such a suggestion seem more like an order, Vati briefly hesitated. It was unlike him. “The Tower - it’s - ” he started, clearly disturbed but keeping his composure.

More or less recovered, Rhythmia moved to the open doorway. The Lapseus twins’ room was mostly intact, but the rest of the hall was... twisted, crumpled together, and vertical. It was a straight drop outside of their doorway. It was a wonder that Vati had clung to the door’s frame to avoid falling.

“Well isn’t that interesting.” Melodia chimed in as she followed the other two towards the doorway. She glanced around all the features of the warped hallway, scratching her chin and pursing her lips in thought — what magic could have this degree of effect on such a large structure.

“We should still be able to use those transport circles that are used to travel throughout the tower. Regardless of how disheveled it may seem, there’s going to be some way out of here.” Her words trailed on, but she cut herself off for a moment as she remembered the burst of mana that traveled through her.

“Though outside of this tower could be a different story. Evacuation seems to be the best route no matter what way I look at it. We should try to meet up with Reina before we bite the dust though, despite the cataclysmic events that have unfolded— I have some unfinished business with her.” She concluded, nodding her head to both Vati and Rhythmia as if handing the decision making reins to the two able-bodied people here. Said people looked at each other for a moment before Rhythmia broke off, heading back inside the room. Melodia turned to watch her sister handily push over the fallen furniture, seeking out a specific piece of her luggage. Underneath one of the beds was a huge and sleek black case that clicked open to reveal a familiar weapon of impeccable design. Tenebrae, the massive railgun that was Rhythmia’s preferred tool of the trade. She hefted it up and with the barest summoning of her gate the gun charged to life. A look of surprise briefly passed Rhythmia’s face, but she supposed it made sense. The “magical bomb” must have super charged the air with mana. Her own favor was very low, the only reason she wasn’t doubled over with what some called “mana sickness” must have been her unusual physiology. Maybe that was the reason Melodia was so full of life, too.

For her part, the long-haired sister didn’t look disturbed at all. A small smirk even graced her features. “Things are getting exciting~”

“So how do we do this?” Vati questioned, peering down the vertical shaft. It was a long drop, maybe a hundred meters or more. “- plus there’s this,” he pointed out the dark swirling energy that seemed to be floating just above the doorway a little, “- where the teleporter used to be.”

Melodia peered up to the swirling vortex of inky void and instinctively leaned towards the magical anomaly. As her arms got closer the pull of the vacuum continued to draw her in, and then she gave in to curiosity with a small hop. As her hands entered the gateway it began to suck viciously, lifting her from the ground and into portal. The sense of magic now surrounded her, mana pulsing around and the force sending her somewhere else stretched the fabric of her being until eventually she was thrown to the ground — her location was now the laboratory.

𝕋wo 𝔾uys 𝕆ne 𝔼ye

---

Everything was black. Not a murky black, or some sort of pseudo-black that mysterious and brooding strangers would wear while skulking in the corners of taverns, waiting to be approached by brave heroes to recruit on their fantastical journeys. Not even the blackest of souls could match this darkness. No, this was true darkness in its purest form - the complete and utter absence of light.

For any other person, the darkness would have been frightening. Sight was, after all, the sense humans relied on the most.

For Reason, however, it was simply the 16th of Anais. Yes, the talks had happened just prior, but he hadn’t actually done that much. Just a bit of fiddling here, a few choice words to Pachel there, and boom! All the policies passed. It was simple, really. Diplomacy wasn’t that hard if you used all the tools available.

And so, as the doors were opened and the stuffy air of negotiations spilled out in the lethargic way characteristic of everything associated with bureaucracy, Reason made his way to the library.

It was odd. He’d never learned to read, on account of not being able to see the words on the page. Tina had tried to start a movement for raised letters on pages. The movement had died, on account of nobody really wanting to accommodate those who couldn’t even cast magic. To draw out their magic, humans needed to be able to see where they would cast- a line of sight. But who would even work for those who could not hold a pen?

Reason grimaced. He’d work on that metaphor later. It was a bit clunky. The ones in books were always so eloquently worded. But then again, authors had all the time in the world to rewrite their complicated machinations. Reason had to commit his jokes to memory. It took up a lot of space. He wasn’t like Tina, with her uncanny ability to recall basically anything she’d ever heard or seen.

He had always felt a sort of kinship with books, even if their contents were a complete mystery to him. He’d always had someone read them aloud, usually Tina. Oh, how wonderful it was to have someone read to you. He almost felt happy that the raised letters movement hadn’t gotten anywhere. It certainly let him spend more time with her.

Ooh, that would be a good thing to bring up next time reading was mentioned. He could almost see Tina’s flustered reaction- but not really, for that was impossible.

Reason knew immediately when he crossed the threshold into the library. Not just from feeling the doorway - there was just a certain sort of weight to such repositories of knowledge. A wise man once said that knowledge = power = energy = mass, and mass distorted space and time. There certainly was a sort of magical feeling to libraries (certainly the major library, with all its tomes and forbidden knowledge), but as far as Reason knew, this one wasn’t particularly mystical.

He settled into a plush chair in the corner. Leather. Cotton filling, probably.

Peace. Sweet, silent peace. Nothing but the smell of paper and the warm insides of his cloak. He’d go talk to Tina later about the results - she probably wanted to see her mother first.

Someone entered the library. Reason couldn’t see them, but he could tell. An empty room didn’t pant, after all. Nor did it yell. Awfully loudly, too.

“Ruel! Ruel, are you in here?! Where on Teliv did you run off to?” Cedric shouted. He glanced around the library. No sign of his brother anywhere. He met the blank stare of one Alexander Reason, about to speak, when a tremor passed through the room and rocked the foundations of the tower. Reason opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. It would have been a humorous sight had Cedric any time to think about it. A bright white light overtook the vision of his one good eye. Everything went black. Something not unfamiliar to both of them, but the time and the occasion were the real shock.

---

Cedric awoke first. Head pounding, vision swirling, he could barely make out the chaos around him. At first, he attributed the strange sight to his nausea, but when the room didn’t change after a few seconds of staring, he realized that he was gazing upon reality.

The entire library was flipped on its side. What was once the floor was now a wall and what was once the ceiling was now the opposite wall. Every shelf not bolted down to the floor had slid down, spilling their knowledge all over the wall floor. The tables and chairs were piled up, splintering from the drop. He realized he was lying on a bed of books - centuries of knowledge supporting his body.

Cedric began to stir. “Agh… I…” He trailed off, clutching at his stomach. He felt very, very ill.

A retching noise sounded from somewhere to his right. The acidic stench of stomach acid and partially-digested breakfast wafted past Cedric’s nose. Centuries of knowledge, ruined by bacon and eggs and orange juice.

The heir to House Immolis struggled to his feet. It was even harder to see than usual. The lights had been knocked around, some broken, and what was left of the windows (on the ceiling) barely let any light in at all. Outside, he could see only grey. Still, there was no mistaking that hideous fur cloak. “Reason heir… that you?”

Reason coughed. “Yes. Might I have the pleasure of knowing who I’m speaking to?”

“Hmph. You can’t even recognize my voice? Cedric Immol-agh!” Cedric suppressed his own urge to vomit.

Reason sat up. The top hat had stayed on his head, almost like it was bolted on. “Ah, I should have known from your shouting. Is your brother around?”

“Ruel!” Cedric hissed, whipping his head around, only to be hit by a wave of nausea. He settled for slumping forwards. “Ah, Anais… where is he? Where are we?”

“Well…” Reason swung his head about in a motion that seemed suspiciously like looking around. “There’s certainly a lot of mana here. It’s… blinding, in a way.”

Cedric stood up, legs shaking. He was about to fall back down any second. “The library… damn, that explosion! Must’ve fucked this whole place up.”

“Interesting.. Gah!” Reason doubled back down onto the floor. His voice floated shakily from his slumped form. “I appear to be afflicted with mana sickness.”

“Appear? Clear as day, isn’t it?” Cedric stumbled over bookshelves, approaching Reason. “Place exploded and now there’s mana everywhere. Sounds pretty northern, doesn’t it.”

“Now, let’s not be leaping to conclusions.” Reason attempted to stand. He slipped on a few books, nearly falling into his own vomit. “Whoops, haha. We’ll want to gather information first.” Again, he swung his head around. “Perhaps a window, to assess damage.”

“Damage? This entire room. No gate could’ve done this. So there’s only one other option.”

“Oh? I recall that House Immolis is Magusist. Perhaps it was… divine intervention? As, say, retribution for helping those of a ‘lower status.’”

“As if any of us actually believe in that,” Cedric scoffed. He was staggering across the room, over to where the portal should have been, on what was now the wall. “Status doesn’t matter when you’ve just attacked the most important place on the continent. I wouldn’t say that I was surpri- oi, what’s this?”

Where the metal plate of the portal once stood was now a swirling vortex flecked with gold. SInce the room had rotated, the portal had ended up on the wall, standing eye level with Cedric. It didn’t seem to be exerting any force on the things around it, but something about its shape, its color, its spectacle, was almost inviting.

“Reason? Can you see this?”

“Well, no. What is it?”

“Get over here, then.”
Reason crawled over on his hands and knees. It was quite a sight- the fur cape made him look like a malnourished bear.

“Oh, my. That is interesting. It certainly creates a connection like before, but it… hmmm…” Reason stood up and looked at the portal. Except he couldn’t. But it certainly seemed like he did. The heir dropped back down to his hands and knees to make the rest of the distance.

“This is pathetic,” Cedric muttered, walking over to pick Reason up. Except he only got halfway before his stomach lurched and he tripped. He stayed standing, but didn’t move anymore. “Agh… sick.”

“Why, you sound terrible, Cedric. Do you mind if I call you that? It’s almost like you’ve never felt mana sickness bef-” Reason’s limbs gave out from underneath him. “Hah. Just a… simple matter of rebalancing your levels…”

“Could only wish to have too much mana,” Cedric grunted. “What is this thing?”

Reason stood up and made the rest of the distance. “Well, from what I can see, it’s a portal.”

“No shit, [redacted]. Why don’t you go in?”

“Are you kidding? This thing looks dangerous. The destination route’s entirely random. The mana flow’s going any which way.” Reason gesticulated wildly, pointing in various directions.

“That means nothing to me. Which only leads me to believe it’s those damn northerners’ fault. If it isn’t magic, it isn’t ours.”

“That’s the thing. It is magic. I could sort of sense the portals before, but now they’re standing out like beacons in the night. The mana levels here are insane- I bet every device or person here is full to the brim with mana.”

“Mana sickness must be getting to you. Why don’t we try the portal out, then?” Cedric said, remembering how sick he felt. He’d almost forgotten, what with Reason’s tomfoolery.

“Well… it does seem to be pretty stable when it makes a connection- probably with a corresponding portal or something. Where is it?”

“Up on the wall. Not that far up, but I can’t just reach it.” Elise probably could, though.

“Hm. Give me a boost?”

Cedric looked at Reason, then back at the portal. “Is that a good idea?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Say no more,” Cedric said, picking up the Reason with some difficulty. It was getting hard to ignore the mana sickness. Normally, he would be able to do it just fine. He was sure of it. But, as he began to approach the portal, it was becoming harder to stay standing. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t vomit all over Reason’s lovely fur cloak, either.

“Whoa! Watch where you put your hands! I’m already taken.”

“That technologist girl? She doesn’t count for anything. There’s not enough of her to mean shit.”

“Hey, I love her as she is. What’s taking so long, anyway? When are you going to put me-”

“Can’t you see? It’s right in front of you,” Cedric said, pushing him closer to the portal. “Hurry up. I’ll drop you in ten seconds.”

Reason reached out a hand and stroked the portal. As soon as his fingers made contact, the portal began to suck him in with surprising force.

“Whoa! It’s got some suction going. I know a few people that’d be interested in this.”

“I’m going to arrest you.”

Before Cedric had the chance to take him into custody, Reason slipped through his grip and disappeared through the portal. He stared in shock at the vortex, his knees giving out. He was seconds away from emptying out his stomach, and his head spun.

“Oh, Anais. Oh, fuck. I just killed Reason!”

𝕆ff the ℂoast

---

The sky flared a bright red. The air around Tobias instantly dried. He felt his tongue lump up and expand in his mouth.

Halifax was dead. Tobias ran him through the chest again, just to be sure. Dead.

So why was the gate above him still there?

All around him, his elite force was gradually overcoming the pirates’ resistance. They’d put up a good fight. Even with their slightly superior naval fighting skill, the sheer number of navaliers had eventually overwhelmed them.

The gate was still there. Another mageborn? But where? Somewhere protected, away from the fighting, with optimal sightlines.

Tobias’s eyes narrowed. The wheelhouse. He stepped over a body- he couldn’t tell whose- and began to make his way over, clashing with several pirates as he did so.

The gate was still there- and it was making something. Something very very hot. Even through the boiling heat, he shivered. The amount of power gathering was immense- this was no ordinary mage.

He quickened his pace. The heat intensified. More magic filled the air. He realized that, to his left and right, two more gates opened above the accompanying ships to the Kiana. He didn’t see their inscriptions exactly, but the style of magic was… familiar.

The door to the wheelhouse was locked. He smashed his heel into the door. It didn’t budge. Swearing a curse to the beyond, he summoned a pitiful amount of acid from his own gate. The lock weakened slightly. He bashed it in with his shoulder.

Inside was a woman, slightly shorter than he, facing away from the doorway - out the viewing slots. Ashen hair. Tobias felt a tremor pass through his body. At first, he thought it was mental, but then he realized that it truly was a tremor. The woman had released her magic. Tobias thought fast. He rushed forward, dealt a stunning blow to her skull, grabbed her limp form, rushed out the wheelhouse, took a deep breath, and jumped ship.

A moment of calm passed quickly by as he seemed to hang in the air above the sea. Tobias hit the water. The icy waters instantly cooled him down. Luckily, he had decided to wear light armor, and he was able to somewhat doff it before he surfaced. The unconscious woman didn’t float, and he hastily surfaced and kicked hard to keep them both afloat. Then, a massive explosion sent a shockwave through the ocean. Massive waves blasted Tobias as he treaded water. The woman, thankfully, seemed to almost float. Others, however, were not so lucky. In front of him, several armored navaliers fall into the water and sink like rocks.

In front of him, Tobias saw the Ironmaw as well as Kiana’s accompanying ships go up in flames. It was almost incredible. This woman was able to ignite not one, but three ironside ships. A barrel from the Ironmaw flew past. Tobias swam to it, and draped the woman over it, allowing him to focus on keeping himself afloat.

The battle was over. The remaining pirates aboard the now-sinking Ironmaw were surrendering. Tobias kicked hard as he waited for the Kiana, the only surviving ship, to pick him up.

---

”Casualty report.”

”Thirty-five navaliers lost. Two ironside ships lost- along with most of their crews. Over half of the pirates dead. Every other one captured.”

”Halifax is dead. I saw to it myself.” Tobias leaned grimly against the taffrail, watching the Lapsean waters rush by.

”Understood, sir. I’ll draft the report.” Tobias’s secretary strode away. The man, thankfully, had the head to stay onboard the Kiana and avoid combat. Tobias had been worried that, as a soldier from House Pachel, he would feel the irresistible call of battle. Luckily, he had kept his head and stayed out of the way.

The mission had been a success, yes, but it came at a high cost. Over half of Tobias’s force had died or been heavily injured in the subjugation of what was seemingly a weak enemy. He cursed his impulsivity. Dozens of good men and women, dead. All because he thought his illusion plan would be enough to overwhelm the criminals. He should have seen it coming - should have prepared more for another mage.

Speaking of which, that second mage was probably the only good result of his mission. Tobias had a sneaking suspicion that the woman currently sitting in the hold, bound in zinc ropes and blindfolded, would be his ticket to redemption. Her gate, the hair, her apparent age, it all added up in an interesting coincidence.

It would be a good idea to check on her. He brushed past the mourning sailors on the main deck, past Yolack’s eternally-surprised visage, and climbed the ladder down into the hold.

Each of the surviving pirates was bound, gagged, and chained to the wall. But, for the woman, he had arranged a separate room for her containment. You could never be too careful with mages.

He fished out the key to her pseudo-cell and unlocked the door. She was as he had left her. Bound to a chair, blindfolded, gagged, facing away from the door. He stepped inside and unshuttered the gemlight on his belt, casting a bright glow throughout the room.

“I know you’re awake,” he said.

No response. Of course. The gag. He reached out and undid it.

Still no answer. He stepped back. ”Well, that doesn’t matter. I’ve come with a deal. Miss Rathas Graves. You face trial and likely execution. However, if you truly are who I believe you to be, the family head will wish to see you. That display of power today… it could mean the future to the Graves family.”